May 9, 2017

Two Poems by Edilson Afonso ferreira: Dear few Friends" and Nostalgia"

Edilson Afonso Ferreira, 73, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese. His poetry has appeared in Right Hand Pointing, The Lake, Spirit Fire Review, Young Ravens, Indiana Voice Journal, Creative Talents Unleashed, Algebra of Owls and others. Ferreira lives in a small town with his wife, three sons and a granddaughter and, unhurried, is trying to publish his first Poetry Book. He began to write at age 67, after retirement as a Bank Manager. He was nominated for The Pushcart Prize in 2016.
 






Dear Few Friends

I have never seen myself,
and I am sure anyone never will see,
as a friend of people used for easy laughs
and to those affected pats on the back.
I prefer austere, even stern people,
like the land I was born and I grew up.
Land of shrubs, narrow creeks and bare hills,
very brief a spring and summer, dry autumn
and then so endless and sleepy a winter.
Land unknown from purple-brown grapes,
bright persimmons and fat peaches,
where do not flow the milk and honey, just
some honest meagre sheaves by the harvest.
The song I sing is only heard by my equals,
some few ones,
who are not accustomed to false praise
and empty words,
but to prompt, effective and friendly deeds.




Nostalgia

Someday I will die,
and even if they send my soul to the heavens,
I know I will be forever homesick.
For sure I will be longing for my days on earth,
remembering old surprising scarlet red sunsets
preceding soft nights where happily I had met
so lovely and unforgettable women, sisters that
our race has refined in such a beauty never seen
anywhere or anytime else.
Longing for a world made by ourselves, humans
full of many faults, sins and mismatches; stripped
from gifts inherent to a God or a Creator, however
never lacking incessant and true-hearted a love.
Longing for the smell of wet ground from which
our ancestors once were created;
longing for the birds’ carols perched on trees
where indomitable free winds sway their leaves
and also leave their song;
longing for the days of glory on winning struggles
once we had supposed were lost.
Longing for a man once alive who believed
he could one day be a king in his kingdom.

(First published in Algebra of Owls.)


© Edilson Afonso Ferreira



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