The Whores from Da Luz Garden ~ Celso de Alencar


The Whores from Da Luz Garden *

They are old and beautiful, the whores from the Garden of Light
They love me in the afternoon
and sweetly chew my hands
and place themselves inside my penis
like an sumptuous and fragrant ocean.
I walk sober as the birds
to kiss their mouths fertilized by the alcohol
between the tongue and the throat.

They love me and are pure
and I tell them the day is dark
and the wind bends the trees over me
and my heart lightly murmurs my sins.

I hear them:
Come with me!
The volcano sleeps in the morning
and during the months in which everything is nocturne.
Look at our names fluttering
in the flags of the train station.
Measure the depth of our stretched vaginas.
Listen the sound of flutes and trains
coming out of our souls.
Listen the stories we tell about
the brief life of our greyish children.
Put yourself in the hot and sour madness.

I love the whores from the Garden of Light
They are pure and I hear the voices of their children
between the sheets that float
as colorful curtains
in the doors’ room
where death is.

* Da Luz Garden (literally Garden of Light) is a park with 113,400 square meters located in a neighborhood called Luz (Light) in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Originally created in 1798 as a botanical garden, the garden was transformed into a public park in 1938, initially only serving as a big pasture for cattle and cows. For much of the twentieth century the Garden has a period of severe degradation, serving as the area of prostitution and drug trafficking.

As Putas Do Jardim Da Luz

São velhas e belas as putas do Jardim da Luz.
Elas me amam à tarde
e mastigam docemente as minhas mãos
e colocam-se dentro do meu pênis
como se fossem um oceano suntuoso e perfumado.
Eu caminho sóbrio como os pássaros
para beijar-lhes as bocas de álcool fecundado
entre a língua e a garganta.

Elas me amam e são puras
e eu lhes digo que escuro está o dia
e o vento dobra as árvores sobre mim
e o meu coração murmura levemente os meus pecados.

Eu as ouço:
Vem comigo!
O vulcão dorme pela manhã
e nos meses em que tudo é noturno.
Olha os nossos nomes que tremulam na
bandeira da estação ferroviária.
Mede a profundidade de nossas vaginas prolongadas.
Escuta o som das flautas e dos trens
que sai de nossas almas.
Ouve as histórias que contamos sobre
a vida breve de nossos filhos acinzentados.
Coloca-te dentro da loucura incandescente e amarga.

Eu amo as putas do Jardim da Luz.
Elas são puras e eu ouço as vozes de seus filhos
entre os lençóis que flutuam
como cortinas coloridas
nas portas dos quartos
onde a morte se encontra.


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