Álvaro de Campos

Tripe Porto Style

One day, in a restaurant, outside space and time,
They served me love as cold tripe.
I delicately told the emissary from the kitchen
That I preferred it hot.
That tripe (and it was Porto style) is never eaten cold.

They got impatient with me.
You're never right, not even in a restaurant.
I didn't eat, I didn't ask for anything else, I paid the bill,
Went outside, and walked up and down the street.

Who knows what this means?
I don't know, and it happened to me.

(I know very well that in everyone's childhood there was a garden,
Private or public, or the neighbor's.
I know very well that our playing was its keeper,
And that sadness is today's.)

I know this many times over,
But, if I asked for love, why did they bring me
Cold Porto tripe?
It's not a dish you can eat cold,
But they brought it cold.
I didn't complain, but it was cold.
It should never be eaten cold, but it came cold.

(undated)

[trans. Chris Daniels & Dana Stevens]

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