that smile, once again

You disappeared in the four lines
that preceded this one;
or else your smile left, for you
always lived in your smile,
green rain on the leaves, your smile,
a flutter of wings at the wrist, your smile,
and that taste, that burning of light
on the lips, when the lips are
the murmur of sun in the streets, your smile.


Eugénio de Andrade, Close to Speech, trans. Alexis Levitin (Lancaster, CA: Red Dancefloor, 2000).

Photos: Erika K