ESCRITORES



Aarhus Poems – Luiza Lobo





Dec. 2005 – Aarhus, Denmark

Christmas at Den Gamle By

First you shrink
To the size of a thumb
Then you step in
The miniature carriage
That shines and lies
on the mantelpiece
And head quickly
to the Old City
The show will soon begin
In the small theater
The stage is crooked and pink
The chairs painted green
and so very uncomfortable
You can barely fit it.
But remember,
you are a dwarf,
don’t worry
Just raise a magic wand and
The music begins
The show must go on!

 

New Year’s Eve and Hope

She came from a land where the sun always shines
And the wind blows lightly
It is many years from now
She doesn’t remember her family
But here the streets are covered with snow
And seem to crack her bones.
The chilly wind that runs through her clothes
has robbed her of her soul.
But she hasn’t lost her hope.
At the sound of the fireworks
She decides that she doesn’t mind
And has the great idea to steps on a bus
She doesn’t know where she is going

Only to the other side.
She hops on the bus but the next stop
It reaches the end of the line.
She hops off and waits for another bus
just like the first
And soon it pops up in the next corner
She hops in and hopes for the best
At least she can rest her tired old feet
and heat her broken breast.
It is at the sound of the fireworks that
She hops off and steps on another bus
Just like the other in that city
She doesn’t remember if she ever got a family
But hopping on and off she got herself lost in the city
She doesn’t know where she is going
Just to the other side
But at the sound of the fireworks she hopes for the best
For sure she will fi

 

Contemplation

Aros
Aarhus
Air hus
Brick walls
Floating steps
Stretch your hand
Reach another dimension
Vertical horizon
Straight lines
White walls

 

Banegaard

Greek temple
Lit at night
Yellow light
Straight tracks
Iron bars
Wait for the next train
To nowhere
At the Banegaard
Where are you going?
Just walking in the Banegaard.
There the noise
There the life that never stops
There the yellow light like in a Greek temple
That makes the station slightly float at night

 

Marseliesborg on a Winter Sunday

When not a leaf on the trees
When not a soul in the streets
When not any life in the woods
Slowly head to the Queen’s Palace.

She won’t be there
But there is an observation booth for the private guard
Waiting for you to spy who is approaching
The Queen may arrive at any moment
Most probably in the next summer.
There the world has stopped
The colors have faded
Only white pervades as far as the woods and clouds go
Movement is gone
People are home.
Step on the garden where the Queen is not
And see the marks of your steps deep into the snow
Only two squirrels and one aligator in iron
Talk around the iced lake stiff with cold
Maybe you want to have a chat and a cup of tea too?
The ivy-stand is white as snow. Nothing stirs.
Not a nightingale, not a cricket, not a crow
All is white
The clouds the grass the roof of the castle
Enchanted by some strange white spell
Winter has come forever
Even the window-panes are ice-surfaced
They have become mirros that stare back at you
But they don’t carry an answer.

 

The Strand Vej in Summer

The Strand Way
The Strange Way
Where you can look for a stone
To sit and fish
There is a canoe
Or the other side of the sea
Where the cliffs are
A sailing boat goes by
As fast as the wind
It drifts constantly driven by a never-ending wind
A wind that never ceases never ends never ever never ends

 

A Spring Afternoon at Rissko Psychiatric Hospital

The Rissko hospital is a palace
Under a spell. You must be careful
Or else you may never come out of it.
Once inside it you will wander by the
French gardens the lawn the old oaks
Full of mystery and you can go up the trees
And catch apples as big as soccer footballs
You can even play soccer if you find someone to play with
The problem is that there is no one around.
In the palace there are so many bedrooms that you can’t count
And the gardens are full of blind alleys

Just pick up a flower and put it on your hair.
You may want to sit on a bench and watch the boats or talk to someone there
The problem is that there are no other visitors
But you are welcome to any of the workshops
Where you can make your own sculptures
Just like those in the garden.
Perhaps a trunk without members or mouth?
Or a face without eyes or brain? You choose!
By producing your own handcrafts or works of art
You will be allowed to wander forever and ever in the alleys without end
And will be let to try alone how to find your way out of the mazes formed by hedges and bushes
It is spring and you can take your time.
Nobody will disturb you there
Except your own thoughts.
At lunch time, remember lunch time?
A big table will be laid just for you
with fish and shrimp and fruit
Juices and pure water and delicious desserts
together with wine, everything beautifully served
And the same for dinner, and lunch, and dinner, indefinetely.
At night you can dance interminably through
the immense ball-room floors where music never stops to play
To sleep you can choose any of the bedrooms
There are no nuts there, not a face, not a soul.
You can look through the windows and watch
The silent sailing boats sailing by
Very silently indeed perhaps there are heading to Ebeltoft.
It is all so peaceful, so very peaceful, so too peaceful
That You may not be allowed to leave this peace, this silence, this dreamy loneliness
Step out of the palace before they see you – there you may be a queen forever.

 

 



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