Ball game

 

 

poem by Ruth Salles

Beats Beto well on the ball,
pass the ball to Brito
good at fighting and chatting!
How much I scream! How much I scream!

How much fall there on the court!
That boot almost falls off.
Who comes? Go Kim,
almost flipping over!

But Melo, my friend,
– half soft, half mute –
neither refuses nor surrenders:
does nothing or does everything.

It passes close to the duck,
stomps his foot with great care.
If you stumble, get out on your feet,
and fills the chest, very safe.

Lulu, so elegant,
carry a scarf in your jacket.
Soon it beeps there or there
when things go black.

Nando is flying now,
like a sullen wind,
the whole beam swinging.
But Kim holds everything.

Give up the sole of your shoe,
Cidão's belt comes off.
Take a leap, take a scare,
but don't let go of your shorts.

It hurts the finger and it hurts the tooth
of Dada's teeth.
Take the ball right in your mouth,
and Lulu whistles there.

Look at Fabio up ahead,
deep down, the Francolim.
It stays firm and doesn't get cold,
see if you face until the end!

Gil has made a cock now!
Come on people hold it!
Go easy, get ice,
put ice on that rooster.

Vito is worth seeing!
It almost flies at the turn.
It's already shocked, it's already collapsed,
what a buzz, what a buzz!

Look at Beto, look at Brito,
the Cidão and the Dada!
Look at Fábio, Francolim!
And Lulu whistles there.

Look at Gil, Kim, Vito,
plus Nando frowning!
Look at Mel! How much I scream!
There, in the floodplain, anything goes!

 

 

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