AS CINZAS DO SOL
by Rosangela Batista

As Cinzas do Sol

Cegam o céu;
Secam o sal de Pernem.
Dão bocadinhos à lua
De açafrão e cal.
Cai, cai pó-ente,    
Põe cinzas d’ouro
Nos tetracantos da mente.

Cinzas da Índia
Serpenteiam em minhas águas:
Brindes de taças aos santos,
Bétulas, crávulos, vélulas tantas,
Taças de vinhos.
Ó sol da casa da Índia!
Quando cais ao acaso
Nos promontórios de Goa,
Calmo, enferrujado,
ah! laranja dó,
Imperturbável te deitas
Untado a pira do ocaso.
Exangue, dás adeus
Aos domos d’acácia,
Seus espinhos 
Que te arranham violáceos.
O sol de Goa se esconde em meu diário
Num pompom amar-hélio
d’acácia perfumado de amorOm.

SUN ASHES

Blind the sky;
Dry up Pernem salt-pans.
Hand feed the moon 
With mites of saffron and white lime.

Fall, fall sun-set,
Golden ashes to the tetra corners 
Of minds.
India’s ashes meander in my own waters:
Cup of toasts to saints,
Betel, marigolds, and candle lights.
The sun of India’s house
Hides in Goa promontories,
Calm, rusted-orange.
Imperturbable, it lies down,
Smeared at the decline.
It says farewell—
Scratched, bloodless—
To the acacia domes,
Violaceous amongst the prickles. 
The Goan sun hides himself
In my diary
As an acacia yellowelium
Scented pom-pom, 
Sublime lovelyom.  

About the Author:

Roseangelina Baptista is an American-Brazilian based in Central Florida. She is a bilingual freelance writer with interests in promoting poetry and mindfulness for society and in reviving Indo-Portuguese literature. Her poetry first appeared in the Joao Roque Literary Journal (June 2019) and Adelaide Literary Magazine (November 2019 and February 2020), other works were contributions to local anthologies (2020.)