As Memórias Do Amanhã Longínquo

End of the World

It can’t be. I don’t want it. Leave it alone. Even if I am no longer breathing,

Leave the zipper wide open and my pallid face between the black plastic,

I must awaken in the meantime — don’t close it before I wake!

It’s impossible. I, the reason of the universe. I, that can open my eyes and create with them the city,

Cities beyond this one, by means of endless plans.

I invent the future with my dreams, the route with my desires,

Lying down and incapable to move? Impossible!

Who will chase the dog? Who will awaken to the scent of coffee at daybreak?

Who will embrace my love? Who will have the children I didn’t?

It can’t be. It's obviously a night terror.
I can’t shout, cannot budge a centimeter of my body,
There is no rhythmical movement of a respiration, nor can I feel any warmth over my temples,

I do not feel anything at all, just a half gray sky and a raindrop here or there that bothers

When it finally dawns on me. What am I doing on the streets, so far below them?

I should be asleep on the thirteenth floor, passed out drunk,

I should be slumbering in the bathroom, swamped in despair,

Because my problems are the worst in the whole world.

To die? I? Never has such conception been feasible!
And now, without a god, how will that go? This is, thus, a zipper that closes,
A darkness that swallows me whole, and then tomorrow, they’ll talk about me at work,

As if I was any another. I am not just another. I am Me,

The others… let it all happen to the others! Not to me. Never. It can’t.

I’m the center of it all. Who did this to me? Was it I? Who is weeping beside me?
I cannot move my eyes, I do not know who she is, but she says yes,
That it’s me. Can’t be me, I’m alive, I’m alive:
This is how it’s supposed to be, this is how I recognize me.
And now nothing? I wish to awaken! This is not for me, but for all others,
My time is not this one, it’s in a hundred years or more!

Because I know that one day, people won’t even die anymore.
And I’ll be lucky to live in those times. Will I have such luck?

Who awakens me? How can the rain still provoke my eyes?
Who cries for me? I refuse to consent that this may be my death,
She is not part of my plans, not true death.

In such wise, this solves nothing, I cannot even refuse.

Entomb me not in cold darkness, cry not for me!

Remember, as if this could keep me alive.

Can someone create me a god this instant? I’d like to ask if he could look away this time,Tell him I was just joking. I was kidding. This really isn’t wat I craved for.

If I didn’t know what this was, how could’ve I craved it truly?

The slide fastener ascends and comes close to my face,

I wish to shout, but there isn’t even an inner-scream within me, it’s useless.

With the last spec of light, just before the bag is completely shut,
I know my eyes will open. Flutter. Will they? Is this the end of the world?
A lonely end? While the others stay on, without staying really,
When someone dies, all those who stay behind die too, don’t they?
But what do I know about death? I am not dead. I cannot be dead.

I shall be the very last to die, without me, the world won’t be.

28.10.2010

Torre de Dona Chama

João Bosco Silva, translated from portuguese by Sónia Oliveira