Fado 11


Rasguei… a garganta aos rouxinóis.
I tore the throat out of the nightingale.
—Pedro Homem de Mello, ‘Atentado’

god of the decaying note,
why was I born like this,
with a deep cut in my voice
that never heals.

I searched for signs, but heard
only sighs of the dead,
like a barely audible song.

I tried to sing them
and instead I wept.
Our voice is and is not ours.

I tore out the cords
of my aching throat.
But still they ask me
for the broken songs.

Source: CV2, Volume 36 no.1, Summer 2013