the heart of summer, its very center, is red.
animated by movement, it flows to the front of time.
it hangs out in the windows quilts of blood.
you are a valley that goes from head to foot.
your central valley is red: it walks, I walk over it.
the summer's heart is a procession.
our bodies go through the middle.
__________________________
Vítor Oliveira Jorge
Translation of a poem from the book
CASA DAS MÁQUINAS
Porto, Papiro editora, 2008
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