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Barata Cichetto – Devastation – Translation and Narration by I.A.

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Barata Cichetto

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“Do you know who I am?” – Asked the braided girl,
Seated on the back of a horse, with two children.
“A princess, I believe,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders,
And looking at the devastated land lying in ruins.

“But how do you know that I am a princess, oh noble bard?”
Inquired the damsel, not so fair, and barking like a dog.
“The princess of death, surely; look well at what you ride,
An old stallion with no teeth and very large hooves.”

“Are you speaking of my horse, you foolish plebeian of worthless odes?”
The lady, who brought cowardice in her hands, wanted to know.
“I speak of your horse, of your purse, and of your whip,”
I said, looking at her breasts beneath the neckline.

“What audacity does the poet have calling me dark,
And were it not for me anarchy, your fate I would seal.”
Said the lady, entwining herself in the folds of her fabric,
Tripping on the stones and tearing her dress apart.

“How dare you look at me with such fiery glances,
For don’t you know I belong only to the noble ones?”
Chasing away the animal that possessed her on the scorched earth,
Amidst the scandalous applause of a hallucinating crowd.

“What do you want from me, after taking my virginity?”
Asked the woman, with a smile of false innocence.
“I want you to mount your nag and disappear into the ashes,”
I replied with the foolish pride of old curmudgeons.

“I am a princess, have you forgotten that?”
And her question was arrogant and made me furious,
I grabbed her by the throat and threw her to the ground like a doll,
And her wig fell far away, revealing a bald head.

“Do you see now, nameless poet, that you sealed your fate,
For I can with my spear tear open your intestines?”
And from the black mists emerged a horde of ragged people,
Brandishing scythes and hammers under the orders of chieftains.

“How do you wish to die, oh poet of perverted odes?
But a finger is enough to invert your fate.”
And the wicked, supported by the soldiers, stepped on my testicles,
With the battalion of famished ones succumbing to her caresses.

“I can take away all your wealth, poet,
And you will never walk through the devastated land pretending to be a prophet.”
Panting like a horse, I shouted an ominous insult at her,
While the damned one laughed, spilling rancid liquid.

“Accursed poet, I condemn you in the name of the red star,
And your existence will be forgotten before the earth covers you.”
Ah, accursed princess of death, prostitute of the cabals,
Your filthy blood will one day flow with your daughters’.

“Insolent pervert, may justice fall upon your head,
May even your prodigal son forget you.”
And lastly, I saw the tyrant with one finger less on his hand
Riding towards me on the bowed back of a dwarf.

09/26/2019

Barata Cichetto, 1958, Araraquara – SP, é poeta, escritor. Criador e editor do Agulha.xyz, e co-fundador da Editora Poetura. Um Livre Pensador.
Contato: (16) 99248-0091

Do Livro: Memórias Arrependidas de Um Poeta Sem Pudor
Antologia Poética, de 1978 a 2024
Para Comprar: https://loja.uiclap.com/titulo/ua46272/

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