CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE
(1902-1987)

 From Lição de Coisas, 1962

THE BOMB

The bomb
is a flower of panic terrifying the floriculturists.
The bomb
is the quintessence of a failed laboratory
The bomb
is misery confederating millions of miseries
The bomb
is stupid is furioussad is full of jelly-roll
The bomb
is grotesque from its dreadfulness and scratches its leg
The bomb
sleeps on Sunday until the bats fly
The bomb
has no price, no lunar, no home
The bomb
promises to behave tomorrow but forgets
The bomb
is not at the bottom of the vault, is mainly where it is not
The bomb
speaks truthless and grins toothless
The bomb
goes to all of the conferences and sits on all sides
The bomb
is round as in a round table, and square
The bomb
at times misses another with which to cross-breed
The bomb
stole and corrupted natural elements and will steal and corrupt more
The bomb
multiplies itself in stock bearers and in bearers without stock
The bomb
cries on rainy nights, twisting in the chimneys
The bomb
makes a week-end of Holy Week
The bomb
fancies up the carnival real fancy
The bomb
has 50 megatons of algidity by 85 of ignominy
The bomb
industrialized termites changing them into interplanetary ballistics
The bomb
suffers from a strangulating hernia, amnesia, mononucleosis, verbosity
The bomb
is not serious, is conspicuously tedious
The bomb
poisons children before they begin to be born
The bomb
continues to poison them through the course of life
The bomb
respects powers, spiritual, temporal and otherwise
The bomb
jumps up and down screaming: I am The bomb
The bomb
is a speck in the eye of life and doesn't come out
The bomb
is a tumor in the womb of Spring
The bomb
has use of stereophonic music, one thousand one-eyed jacks, cobalt, iron, as
[well as accomplices
The bomb
has supermarket circus library squadron of missiles, etc.
The bomb
does not permit anyone to wake it unless it's important
The bomb
wants to keep athletes and paralyzed awake nervous and sane
The bomb
kills merely by thinking the other is coming to kill
The bomb
bends languages to its muddled syntax
The bomb
savors death with marshmallow
The bomb
burps deceit and political bombast
The bomb
creates leopards in the garden, eventually in the living-room
The bomb
is putrid
The bomb
would like to have remorse to justify itself, but this is denied it
The bomb
asked the devil to baptize it and God to validate the baptism
The bomb
declares itself the scales of justice love-arc archangel of brotherhood
The bomb
has an exclusive club
The bomb
ponders the Nobel Prize with a new-critical eye
The bomb
is russiamericanenglish but enjoys perfume from Paris
The bomb
offers on the tray of pure uranium the title of privilege, atoms of peace
The bomb
will not have work with the visual, sculptural or concrete arts
The bomb
designs ultra-electronic traffic signals to protect the elderly and children
The bomb
does not allow anyone the luxury of dying from cancer
The bomb
is cancer
The bomb
flies to the moon, whistles and returns
The bomb
decreases neutrals and neutrinos and cools itself with the fan of the chain
[reaction
The bomb
is overindulged with glory of being The bomb
The bomb
does not know when, where and why it's going to explode, but can taste the
[ineffable instant
The bomb
stinks
The bomb
is guarded by terrified sentinels in turrets of cardboard
The bomb
being a confused beast gives time to humanity so that it might save itself
The bomb
will not destroy life
Man
(I have hope) will liquidate the bomb.

(Tr. Jennifer Sarah Frota)