By ALBERTO DE LACERDA
Translated by MARIA DE CALDAS ANTÃO
To John McEwan
The architecture of the sleeves—
White—
As she composes her response
To a letter
(On the marble floor
The seal
Jumps
From the crumpled letter)
Delft
Labyrinth
Externalized
In frank meditation
Serene
The clarity
(Coming from the panes)
The shadows
The transitions
The bliss
Of confined spaces
Wide open
To imagination
The floor
Geometric
Cleared of all
But the past and the present
The present
Hoisted from depths immemorial
With not a single vestige
Of nostalgia
Everything is
What is there
And what is there
Never ends
It is the concrete absolute
Almost insufferable
Of one who saw, clearly saw,
Like a madman
Each detail lives
Intact
Honest—
Its importance equal
To the whole world
The mystery of mysteries
There it is
Visible
Manifest
But no one knows what it is
Only he who painted reality
In all its nakedness
Washington
23.01.1996
Alberto de Lacerda (1928–2007) lived in Mozambique, Portugal, London, Austin, and Boston, writing poetry and art criticism, and amassing an art collection of over a thousand works. He published his first book of poems at eighteen. In London, he worked as a broadcaster for the BBC, and he later taught at The University of Texas at Austin and Boston University.
Maria de Caldas Antão lives in Lisbon, Portugal. She holds an MA in philosophy, politics, and economics from Oxford University, and a degree in acting from Mountview Academy in London. She has participated in the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and received fellowships to attend the SLS and DISQUIET literary programs. Her poem “My Freedom” appeared in Issue 27 of The Common.
