three years of ballet tutus and taffeta and still i lost my posture.

Six poems by Angélica Freitas, translated from the Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan. 

foto (2)KI first discovered Rilke Shake while browsing the poetry section at Livraria Cultura, a large bookstore in Porto Alegre. I grabbed it because of the title; the pun on “milkshake,” which in Brazil’s vernacular means just what it does in English, made me laugh. The voice in the poems stood out to me because it was funny and female, portrayed queerness, used speech from the south of Brazil, and combined local and global perspectives to deal with questions of personal and poetic identity. I was intrigued by this voice, which grappled with the poets of the past but had a style unlike most other poetry on Brazilian bookshelves. I walked into the street with a new book to devour.

The shake is Freitas’s symbol of poetic invention; it is the delicious mess of combination that makes poetry. In Freitas’s vision, poetic formation is life formation. Life in these poems occurs in concrete scenes—a family library, a young person’s room, a city street—but the setting and its artifacts always point to the human interior. By shaking together literary classics, pop culture, pastoral fantasy, and more, the poems reflect upon and attempt to understand the self, and the poet’s art.

–Hilary Kaplan

cosmic coswig mississippi

by Angélica Freitas

abriremos a janela mais tranquilas para ver

não esse tanto de edifícios mas

 

vacas aparando a grama

galinhas arregaladas

galos em estacatos

 

abriremos a janela toda

 

não só uma fresta para a ver a vida besta

que se desenrosca amanhecida nos metros

 

porque lá só haverá tatus

underground

 

só haverá o blues

rural

 

 

cosmic coswig mississippi

by Angélica Freitas

tranquil we will open the window to

see not this endless mass of buildings but

 

cows clipping the grass

wide-eyed hens

roosters in staccato

 

we will open the window wide

 

not just a sliver to see brute life

untwist asleep from the metros

 

because there will only be armadillos there

underground

 

there will only be country

blues

 

 

translated from Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan
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r.c.

by Angélica Freitas

os grandes colecionadores de mantras pessoais não saberão a metade/ do que aprendi nas canções/ é verdade/ nem saberão/ descrever com tanta precisão/ aquela janela da bolha de sabão/ meu bem eu li a barsa/ eu li a britannica/ e quando sobrou tempo eu ouvi/ a sinfônica/ eu cresci/ sobrevivi/ a privada de perto/ muitas vezes eu vi/ mas a verdade é que/ quase tudo aprendi/ ouvindo as canções do rádio/ as canções do rádio/ quando meu bem nem/ a verdadeira maionese/ puder me salvar/ você sabe onde me encontrar/ e se a luz faltar/ num cantinho do meu quarto/ eu vou estar/ com um panasonic quatro pilhas aaa/ ouvindo as canções do radio

 

r.c. (roberto carlos)

by Angélica Freitas

the greatest collectors of personal mantras will never know the half/ of what i learned from the songs/ oh no/ they’ll never know/ how precisely to show/ a soap bubble’s glossy window/ my dear i’ve read the encyclopedia barsa/ i have read the britannica/ and when i had time to spare i listened/ to the symphony/ i grew up/ survived/ saw the porcelain up close/ many times/ but the truth is/ i learned nearly everything/ listening to the songs on the radio/ on the radio/ my love when not even/ real mayonnaise/ can save me/ you know where to find me/ and if the light grows dim/ in a corner of my room/ that’s where i’ll be/ with my panasonic four AAA batteries/ listening to the songs on the radio

 

translated from Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan
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casino

by Angélica Freitas

você prefere o cru

ao creme:

boca ostra língua

lago lua lugar

paisagem com pinheiros

ao fundo. você sempre

preferiu o cru

ao ecrã, insônia a

barbeiro de sevilha.

paisagem de pinheiros

com abismo

por trás.

 

você precisa

habitar as elipses

precisa dissecar

o sapo da poesia

– não abole o poço.

salta saltador

o grande salto.

a maresia come

as rodas do carro.

você prefere o cru

nem precisava

ter dito.

 

 

cassino

by Angélica Freitas

you prefer the raw

to the refined:

mouth oyster tongue

lagoon moon taste

landscape with pine trees

in the background. you always

preferred the raw

to the reel, insomnia to

the barber of seville.

landscape of pines

with the abyss

behind.

 

you need

to live in the ellipses

need to dissect

the frog of poetry

—not abolish the well.

leaper, leap

the great leap.

the salt air eats

car wheels.

you prefer the raw

you did not need

to speak.

translated from Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan
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l’enfance de l’art

by Angélica Freitas

porque eu perdia a pose mamãe me deu uma cadeira elegante de veludo burgundy. três anos no balé tutus e tafetás e ainda perdia a pose.

 

mamãe disse vou comprar uma cadeira para que pelo menos sente elegantemente. papai chegava tarde e ao me ver sentada lendo pedro nava suspirava e tirava trollope da estante. “leia os clássicos,

 

é importante.” era o entendimento de papai o self-made man o marido de mamãe a de quatro sobrenomes.

 

daí a minha aversão a heráldica e estofados.

 

daí por que nunca li chaucer antes.

 

l’enfance de l’art (formative youth)

by Angélica Freitas

because i lost my posture mama got me an elegant chair in burgundy velvet. three years of ballet tutus and taffeta and still i lost my posture.

 

mama said i am buying a chair so at least you’ll sit elegantly. papa came home late and seeing me seated reading pedro nava sighed and took trollope down from the shelf. “read the classics,

 

it’s important.” that was the understanding of papa the self-made man the husband of mama who had the traditional four last names.

 

and so my aversion to heraldry and upholstered things.

 

and so i’ve never read chaucer before.

 

translated from Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan
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[só]

by Angélica Freitas

 só

me consolaria:

o ejetor de teias

do homem-aranha

só lá no alto

entre prédios

não se veria

este coração

sem plumas

 

– algum vilão

por aí

usa um

colar de penas

made in

my heart –

só lá em cima

entre edifícios

com o aval

das pombas

 

uma criança

olha pra cima

mamãe, mamãe

é a mulher

-aranha?

não seja tola

ela está

limpando

janelas

 

me consolaria:

o ejetor de teias

do homem-aranha

só lá no alto

entre prédios

não se veria

um coração

sem planos

[i'd only]

by Angélica Freitas

i’d only

be consoled by

spiderman’s

web-ejector

only up high

between buildings

no one would see

this heart

without plumes

 

—some villain

around here

wears a necklace

of feathers

made in

my heart—

only there up above

between towers

protected

by pigeons

 

a child

looks up

mommy, mommy

is it spider

woman?

don’t be silly

she is

washing

windows

 

i’d only

be consoled by

spiderman’s

web-ejector

only up high

between buildings

no one would see

a heart

without plans

translated from Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan
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