Sugar by Ferreira Gullar
SugarThe white sugar
I’m about to use
to sweeten my coffee
this morning in Ipanema
wasn’t made by me
and no miracle made it show up in my sugar-bowl.I look at it, so pure
and friendly to the palate,
like a kiss from a girl, water
on the skin, a flower
that melts in your mouth.
But this sugar wasn’t made by me.This sugar came
from the corner market, and Oliveira,
the shopkeeper,
didn’t make it.
This sugar came
from a mill in Pernambuco
and the miller didn’t make it, either.This sugar used to be cane, and cane
comes from huge canefields
that don’t sprout by chance
in some valley’s welcoming lap.In places far from here,
where there are no hospitals,
where there are no schools,
men who don’t know how to read
and die of hunger
at 27
planted and cut the cane
that was made into this sugar.In dark mills
men with hard
and sour lives
produced the pure white sugar
I’m about to use
to sweeten my coffee
this morning
in Ipanema
Ferreira Gullar, translated by Chris Daniels.Gullar is a Brazilian poet who “[a]fter almost a year living underground, . . . went into exile (Moscow, Lima, Santiago, Buenos Aires) from 1971-1977.”
Chris Daniels has done a lot of translating from the Portugese. “Sugar” is but one of many that can be found at Notes From A Fellow Traveller
Wow. Wish I’d written that. And thanks for the link.
Oh and here’s my own latest, in the catagory of activist poetry)
An Apology to Red Lobster
Yes, I hear you.
You do not take reservations.
Yes, I understand your need to
“treat all the world peoples the same”
and why you cannot make any exceptions.
My apologies for forgetting
I am no longer one of them
nor is my partner, with our
old and broken bodies
that cannot stand in line,
for the predicted half hour
to forty five minutes.
I understand your impatience with me
I ought not have asked for an exception
so we could be seated right away,
to partake of your laden tables
with our birthday party of nine
with these bulky walkers that take up
so much expensive space.
We promise not bother you again
and to remember our place
among the worlds
non-people.
(To be signed and mailed to corporate headquarters, cc’s to the manager of this shop and all the other Red Lobster locations I could find in the Mpls/St Paul Area.)
Comment by scribe40 — February 23, 2007 @ 1:32 pm
You rock scribe!
Comment by alohaleezy — February 23, 2007 @ 1:38 pm
Two great poems. Thanks for sharing
Comment by blueneck — February 23, 2007 @ 4:31 pm
I agree. I don’t like poetry as a rule, but these two are great.
Comment by liberalcatnip — February 23, 2007 @ 10:36 pm
Ahhh, catnip, the power of poetry is not to be underestimated, my friend. Who, after having read “Sugar”, will fill spoons of sugar freely? And who, after having read “An apology to Red Lobster”, will eat there? Not me.
Comment by blueneck — February 23, 2007 @ 11:14 pm