A aurora de Nova Iorque tem
Quatro colunas de lodo
E um furac?o de pombas
Que explode as ?guas podres.
A aurora de Nova lorque geme
Nas vastas escadarias
A buscar entre as arestas
Ang?stias indefinidas.
A aurora chega e ningu?m em sua boca a recebe
Porque ali a esperan?a nem a manh? s?o poss?veis.
E as moedas, como enxames,
Devoram rec?m-nascidos.
Os que primeiro se erguem, em seus ossos adivinham:
N?o haver? para?so nem amores desfolhados;
S? n?meros, leis e o lodo
De tanto esfor?o baldado.
A barulheira das ruas sepulta a luz na cidade
E as pessoas pelos bairros v?o cambaleando insones
Como se houvessem sa?do
De um naufr?gio de sangue.
****
DAWN
Dawn in New York has
Four columns of mire
And a hurricane of black doves
Which splash in the putrid waters.
Dawn in New York groans
On enormous fire escapes
Searching between the eagles
For spikenards of drafted anguish.
Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth
Because morning and hope are impossible there.
And sometimes the furious swarming coins
Penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children.
Those who go out early know in their bones
There will be no paradise or love stripped of its petals;
They know they will be mired in numbers and laws,
In games without skill, in fruitless labors.
The light is buried beneath chains and noises,
Na impudent warning to rootless science.
And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs
As if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.
