De Fogões e Inverneiras
Joca Martins
Of Stoves and Wintering Places
A strong wind carries my thoughts away
I divert my mind so I have nothing to think about
I throw dreams into the marsh of the field
And the big night comes to make me play the guitar.
I trace paths to follow the next day
And the soul saddles new challenges to tame
In the wintering places that get lost in the distance
I kill these misplaced longings in singing.
(Stoves please me in the bugle of the wintering places
Rustic souls that inhabit the shed
They are rough dreams mixed with the south wind
That this wild horse has long since tamed)
Outside life dissolves in cold rain
Corralling troops, seeking to settle
A southern lapwing announces itself on the hill
Rehearsing rhymes of longing to remember.
Dark partner that the stove saw you absent
And even the sunset lost sight of you
I recite rhymes of stoves and wintering places
Rustic souls that make me play the guitar.
(Stoves please me in the bugle of the wintering places
Rustic souls that inhabit the shed
They are rough dreams mixed with the south wind
That this wild horse has long since tamed)
