Edilson Ferreira
Friends, Land and Flowers
I am guilty of not having many loves
and so few being my friends.
I am a man of old-fashioned customs,
the one who hopes to be duly introduced
and then exchange a full conversation.
Forgotten refinement of the times of yore,
etiquette learned in the old social rites.
My friends are few, faithful and heartfelt,
not subject to those usual taps on the back,
easy laughs and feigned cuddling.
They are always austere, even stern,
but never fail when you need them.
Never accustomed to false praise
and empty words,
but prompt, effective and friendly deeds.
Like the land where I was born and raised,
dry plateaus and arid hills, narrow creeks
and honest meager sheaves by the harvest.
Stubborn trees that, unlike the others,
wait for the driest season to bloom,
naked even of leaves, find strength
to bring forth delicate yellow flowers,
resembling the pure and true gold.
A Brazilian poet, Mr. Ferreira, 75, writes in English rather than in Portuguese. Largely published in international journals in print and online, he began writing at age 67. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2016. His first Poetry Collection – Lonely Sailor – is coming soon, scheduled to be launched in London, November 29th 2018, with one hundred poems. He blogs at www.edilsonmeloferreira.com.
Friends, Land and Flowers
I am guilty of not having many loves
and so few being my friends.
I am a man of old-fashioned customs,
the one who hopes to be duly introduced
and then exchange a full conversation.
Forgotten refinement of the times of yore,
etiquette learned in the old social rites.
My friends are few, faithful and heartfelt,
not subject to those usual taps on the back,
easy laughs and feigned cuddling.
They are always austere, even stern,
but never fail when you need them.
Never accustomed to false praise
and empty words,
but prompt, effective and friendly deeds.
Like the land where I was born and raised,
dry plateaus and arid hills, narrow creeks
and honest meager sheaves by the harvest.
Stubborn trees that, unlike the others,
wait for the driest season to bloom,
naked even of leaves, find strength
to bring forth delicate yellow flowers,
resembling the pure and true gold.
A Brazilian poet, Mr. Ferreira, 75, writes in English rather than in Portuguese. Largely published in international journals in print and online, he began writing at age 67. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2016. His first Poetry Collection – Lonely Sailor – is coming soon, scheduled to be launched in London, November 29th 2018, with one hundred poems. He blogs at www.edilsonmeloferreira.com.