Melted in the Crucible

Florbela Espanca (1894-1930) is unmatched in the intensity of her love poems . Fernando Pessoa's much celebrated poetry seems shallow in comparison with the eloquent images of her pulsating verses. I here offer a new translation of her magnificent sonnet “Fumo.” Smoke Away from you, the paths are deserted, Away from you, no moonlight, no roses; Away from you, only silent nights, Days without heat and eaves without nests! My eyes, two poor old folks Lost throughout wintry nights... O f caressing hands dreaming, Your sweet hands of tenderness! The days are autumn: weeping... weeping... With purple chrysanthemums fading And murmurs of secrets so painful... I now invoke our dream, my hands stretched out! Oh, take it, my love, before it's all gone Like light smoke escaping through my fingers...