Yard Sale of Thoughts

This timely poem was inspired by Portuguese poet Eugénio de Andrade’s poem “It’s Christmas.” Find it below in both the original language and its translation. I am grateful to writer Nuno Ferreira for the introduction.

Happy Wednesday!

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Nobody’s Home

When they take off their leaves,
I can see the trees have been dieting.
Meanwhile, I eat ridges of bonbons,
cover a colossal woodpile,
determined not to freeze.

The fronds on my fake Christmas tree
are fluffed full and healthy.
They provide endless amusement
as I have learned how they tease;
anything to keep embers aglow.

From the neighbors rooftop,
a constant puff of smoke.
I hold mine in,
stare at Rudolph’s blood-red nose.
My bed feels softer when I’m stoned.

The bathroom faucet leaks
“Carol of the Bells”
years after the kids have gone.
I should not complain about a melody.
I am nobody’s home.

© 2022 | K.Hartless

Cover Art: Jacques De Loustal

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“É Natal
É Natal, nunca estive tão só.
Nem sequer neva como nos versos
do Pessoa ou nos bosques
da Nova Inglaterra.
Deixo os olhos correr
entre o fulgor dos cravos
e os dióspiros ardendo na sombra.
Quem tem assim o verão
dentro de casa
não devia queixar-se de estar só,
não devia.”

“It’s Christmas
It’s Christmas, I’ve never been so alone.
It doesn’t even snow like in the verses
do Pessoa or in the woods
from New England.
I let my eyes run
among the glow of carnations
and the persimmons burning in the shade.
Who has the summer like this
inside home
shouldn’t complain about being alone,
should not.”

Eugénio de Andrade, in Rente ao Dizer