Sometimes the Bus Whispers Love Poems in My Ear

Dear Municipal Bus of Porto Alegre,

I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate that you always have poems on your windows. Not all the windows of course. You still leave ample room to see the landscape whooshing past. But, I like that you give me just a little something to read while I'm hanging on through all your funky twists and turns and jerky braking, waiting for my stop to come. And not just one poem repeated, but dozens of different ones.

Book are expensive here. In all sincerity, my beloved Portuguese translation of Twilight (Crepúsculo) cost me about $22 US dollars, if not more. So, it makes me all the more enthusiastic about the free bus poetry that you provide us passengers.

This one, "Passenger Love" by Alcir Nicolau Pereira roughly translates to:

The bus braked at the stop
And she came on board
She stayed close by sitting
And won over my heart

Lovely and beautiful passenger
Talented young woman with a pretty complexion
I tried out gallant prose
Leaving her serious, very distressed

Startled and very nervous
She warned: please, do not persist
Speaking softly and timidly:
My husband is the bus driver

So thanks again Bus, and I look forward to the next poem.

Sincerely,
Libélula Azul

P.S. Perhaps you can throw in a poem about vampires or werewolves to satisfy my high literary taste??

Cup of Tea at Sunset

Cup of Tea at Sunset
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

A few weeks ago, I enjoyed a cup of chocolate-mint tea in the rooftop cafe of the Casa de Cultura (House of Culture) Mario Quintana. The beautiful pink building in downtown Porto Alegre was once the Hotel Majestic, where I have been told the poet Mario Quintana used to reside.

Yesterday while in one of the city's gazillion malls, I happened upon a book of his poetry and thought it only appropriate that I buy a copy.

And here is a snippet (translated likely roughly, by me - feel free to offer better more nuanced translations!) of a poem titled, "Para olhar por outro ângulo" (For looking from another angle") that I thought was amusingly appropriate to all my musings about the new, sometimes different, sometimes seemingly "exotic" things I'm experiencing here in Brazil...

I'm suspicious of those tourists that consider the places they've visited to be exotic. They stay outside, seeing the picturesque in everything: the houses, the clothes, the customs, the beliefs...
And they aren't even suspicious that only exotic note in those defenseless countries is precisely themselves!

 (Desconfio desses turistas que consideram exóticos os países visitados. Ficam de fora, vendo o pitoresco em tudo: nas casa, nas roupas, nos costumes, nas crenças...
E nem desconfiam que a única nota exótica desses indefesos países são precisamente eles!)

I'll leave you with a photograph of the poet himself inside the Casa de Cultura.