Seafood and Poetry

 

Even if quietness is my modus vivendi these days, things seem to happen faster than I can write them down. A week is usually gone when I post about a certain fact. I’ve been trying to write about the previous day but that never happens, be it because reportable facts are more than days to live or because, due to the ups and downs of the local Internet, it’s too risky to consider last minute work.

 

A week ago we returned to the Costa do Sol restaurant. I can say we are now mid summer, but this particular Sunday felt as if we were living the first days of it. A bright blue sky and a feeling I cannot put into words but was suspended in the air surprised us all the way down to Costa do Sol.

 

I played photographer for a bride and the way people kept asking me to take pictures I would have photographed all Costa do Sol visitors if I only got time for that. There are periods when white bridal spots are part of Costa do Sol scenery.

 

We sat on the restaurant veranda and chose seafood for lunch: crab and prawns. I remember commenting: “I don’t know if people coming here are aware that they get a lot more than seafood…” It’s evident I was referring to the immense blue sky, the silvery blue sea or that don’t know what in the air.

 

I am sure there’s another aspect making people came back: friendly service. Besides, where else in the world would you find someone like Manuel, restaurateur and poet? He shared with me some of his writing attempts and I selected two less private to show here.

 

The first one Manuel wrote on his way to Havana, and I bet he had the restaurant in his mind. I took the liberty to translate it to English, introducing a couple of changes to benefit the new language.

 

Sitting Here

Each one sitting here
Each one stepping in here
Where yellow and blue play
They all come in and say
About ones’ victories
And others that have failed
Between a grouper and a xerne
Between past and present
Life turns and life passes
Each laugh stopping here
This soul, that life
The past still sitting here
The present here stopped.

 

Be it figurative or not, I liked the second one. It remains in Spanish for the sake of the international character of this space.

 

Cigarra Cantante!

Una cigarra canta!
Pero la otra no baila
Otras quieren dormir
Pero la primera si canta!

 

Hay otras bailantes cansadas

Hay otras cansadas bailantes
Pero mi cigarra cantante
Si canta sola so canta!

 

Las que dormen no se despiertan

Prefiren seguir dormindo
Asi la vida no imagino
Que todas juntas bailantes
No siguen cantando, cantantes,

 

La harmonia sinfonica

De mi cigarra cantante
Que un dia se despiertara
De una cancion euforica
Viva mi cigarra cantante
Viva mi cigarra cantante!

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2 thoughts on “Seafood and Poetry

    1. As we are planning sunset and champagne in Macaneta for tomorrow I hope to be a lucky, inspired photographer. I realize why you like these photos and I only wish I could have five minutes with this group of women. Reminiscences of a camera stolen on the Marginal make photographing a hard job nowadays. S

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