By THIAGO IRAPORANGA*

Poem about today

How much is paradise worth?
One fifth of Boipeba
For a kilo of mangaba.

And what do I have to do with it?
If such a thing does not give me money
While he (or they?) brags.

The tropicalist minstrel
Caetanou about the rotten powers
of ridiculous tyrants

whose competence is listed
In a sequence of death and pain
In the past of Ponta dos Castelhanos

Appealing to his singing partner,
Sage descendant of ancient griots,
I quantify myself

Listening to the Aimorés with their tears
The Earth that is losing its vital signs
In the face of destruction that doesn't lie to me

And no matter how high-sounding they are
The cuícas of the masked people of Zambiapunga
Screams and cries of slaves

continue to be muffled
By the winds of this fate, nothing malunga
Blown by the arminius greed that abounds

*Thiago Iraporanga is a poet

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