I glimpse more light in the east
and stranger animals in the wood.

When you gave me your hand, you said
"Don't leave---" and then put on the hood.

A headstone, with a beast,
turned petrified your hair.

Years on, quite still, you have not ceased
and, bats eat moths, I've understood

I must not always leave you dead
in the mould of the marvellous wood

but search again for the painted stair
up which I saw you lightly tread.

///

O GOTEJAR DA HERA NO CEMITÉRIO DE WARRISTON

Vislumbrei mais luz a leste
e estranhos animais no bosque.

Quando me deste a tua mão, disseste
"Não partas---" e cobriram-te.

Uma lápide, com um monstro,
petrificou o teu cabelo.

Assim mesmo, anos depois, não morreste
e, diabos me levem, percebi

que não deveria deixar-te morto
no bolor do maravilhoso bosque

mas procurar de novo a escada colorida
que te vi a subir suavemente.

by Andrew SCLATER, in "THE POETRY REVIEW", Volume 107:2, Summer 2017

(Portuguese translated by Armando TABORDA, 2017)

(photo taken from Internet; edited by Armando TABORDA)