Dr. Maria do Sameiro Barroso


Paradise never existed,
Adam and Eve were already wounded
in their delightful bed
of leaves,
wrapped in the purest blue shades,
cradled by the breezes of the Zephyr,
as read in the mythical narration
stained by sin and by the lower
ordering of woman.
Adam had one more rib,
a supernumerary rib,
something he did not need.
Eve was born from it, as innocent
as the wine grapes, the apples f the orchard
or the tears that she silently
Eve loved the sun, Adam and the serpents
that entrusted to her the secrets of the earth.
She loved the light around her,
and Paradise existed there,
in the place where Eve was fed
with the red berries,
her spirit blossoming
from her entire body
away from all narratives.
Eve survived in the light of exile,
resplending in the primordial innocence,
with Adam replicating Life
in the sinless aura
of guiltless silence.


No sweetness comes to her at night,
but she cradles all that take refuge
 in her blue turquoise sky.
Her night is not sweet, nor her life,
deprived of its integrity under the acrid
and eager brains that conquer,
devour and oppress.
No sweetness touches her.
Life is a secluded canvas.
But poems grow like grains of sand
in the crystal of a cry.
In a restless supplicant tear,
the bitter complaint
appoints her place in the cruelty
of its absurd coherence.
Yet she sings with the sea, the lyre,
the shimmering wave,
and pours the balm and the poem
in the music of celestial lutes
when the diamonds of the night echo
in the sealed mystery of despair,
floating in the wounded sounds
of her clamouring verses.


Women are also aquariums,
fruitful islands of misty glow,
insightful glance, steep breasts,
forests of eternity.
They are invisible goddesses on earth.
Sometimes, they disguise themselves,
they live with other faces,
and hide behind veils of myosotis,
black eyelids absorbing like sponges
the brightness of the sea,
and the blackness of the world.
They hold the torch of life,
the palms of peace,
sprinkling the dream, the word,
living by the sea in houses
of mother of pearl,
keeping their mystery,
faithful to their harps, their songs,
hovering like birds
with bruised wings
on the looms of silk
of their ancestral heritage.

Dr. Maria do Sameiro Barroso, medical doctor, and a multilingual poet, translator, essayist and researcher, Vice-President of the Portuguese Pen Centre between 2012-2014, member of the World Poetry Movement (WPM), Portuguese Cultural Delegate of the Poetic Liceo of Benidorm, Honor Member of the Circle of Mozambican Writers in the Diaspora, has authored 45 books of poetry, published in Portugal, Brazil, Spain, France, Serbia, Belgium, Albany, and USA, and translation and books of essays. Her poems are translated into twenty languages. She organizes anthologies, cultural events, and is invited to international poetry festivals. She was awarded with several literary poetry prizes.

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