Maria Do Sameiro Barroso (Portugal)

Maria Do Sameiro Barroso (Portugal)
Maria Do Sameiro Barroso, born in Braga (Portugal), is a Medical Doctor, specialist in General and Family Medicine, a multilingual poet, a Germanist, translator, essayist and researcher in the areas of Portuguese and German Literature, Translation Studies and History of Medicine. She published over forty books of poetry in Portuguese, Spanish, French, English, Albanian, Serbian and Macedonian. Her poems are represented in over one hundred national and international magazines and anthologies, translated into more than twenty languages. She has been awarded national and international literary prizes, the last being the “Prayer of Saint Teresa” Prize Gjakovë, Kosovo 2019.
I was born out of a morning
in the gardens of dew,
I was born out of the wind
as a gentle breeze.
I live in my body,
and in the outside.
No place is my home,
I hide in silence
and weave my song in looms
of darkness.
My bliss is to wander like
a skeleton of blue,
chasing the words, your voice,
the stars,
the flesh of the night,
healing my scars
in violet flowers,
magic charms, whirling dances
and tattoos of birds
in strange hues
of an ancient paradise.
I lie in your arms without North,
on the trampled route of the rivers
you´ve lost.
I know you have dreamt of the sun,
but you never took for yourself
more than the chimaera of a gesture.
You´ve always gone much less
than expected,
babbling on the innominate body
that you could never understand.
So it was. So it has always been.
I remember you on the shallow flight,
in the atrocious haze,
in the agony of a cut rose.
I’m leaving.
I put on my clothes, wrapping myself
in sea and silence.
I carry with me the dew of your hands.
Maybe I still love you.
Maybe I’ll always love you like
white water lilies that I keep
in the vertigo of the light at dawn.
Saffron is moving slowly,
like the jasmine and the sun,
and the ink of spells
writes down your song,
your radiance, your glance,
a sunset of silhouettes
and palm trees.
In a golden embrace
the scents of India flow
in tamarind, jasmine
moving in gentle shades,
of a mysterious world
into my blood.

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