Scott Edward Anderson's Poetry Blog

My friend and colleague Leonor Sampaio da Silva published her first collection of poems last summer, Quase um Carimbo (Companhia das Ilhas, 2022). 

Born on the island of São Miguel, Azores, Leonor holds a master’s degree in Anglo-Portuguese Studies from the Universidade Novo de Lisboa and a PhD in Anglo-American Studies from the University of the Azores, where she has taught since 1991.

Having published a number of academic papers and contributions to various books, anthologies, and literary magazines, Leonor made her literary debut with a book of short stories, Mau Tempo e Má Sorte – contos pouco exemplares, which received the Daniel de Sá Humanities Prize in 2014. She is also the author of ABN da Pessoa com Universo ao Fundo (2017) and, with Carlos Carvalho, Pouca Terra – Fotografia e Literatura (2019).

“My idea for [this] book was to talk about the experience of isolation caused by the pandemic,” Leonor explained to me. “In which we lost contact with others and forced ourselves to face situations such as the vulnerability of life, how to make sense of each day, how to live with routine.”

Some of the poems read like diary entries, the poetic voice spoken by characters representing, as Leonor notes, “the others that exist within and outside of oneself.” 

“Carimbo,” it may be useful to note, means “stamp,” the kind used to mark or authenticate official or private papers. Another meaning of the word, however, is “timestamp” (although usually written as “carimbo de data/hora.”) and, in this collection, each poem is marked by a timestamp: morning, afternoon, or night, as well as an action–I wake up, I sit down, I get up–as if to indicate stage direction. 

It’s as if the characters in the poems are actors in their own play, marking their time, the pandemic imbuing even the most mundane tasks with the aspects of a theatrical production. 

The book title translates as “Almost a Stamp,” which leads the reader to a question: if it is “almost,” what is it? An approximation? What is reality? The questions are heightened by the ending of the book where the theatrical stage suddenly becomes cinematic, play becomes film, language shifts in tone, the curtain falls, a wind picks up, a torrential rain pours down, and fallen leaves return to their trees. The speaker remains lonely. The book ends with one last action: “Adormeço” (I fall asleep).     

“Poetry,” Leonor argues, “is a way of putting us in touch with each other and exploring new languages.” She carries this thread throughout the collection, whether using “the more intimate language of the diary/newspaper” or “the more social language of the theater,” demonstrating that “everything happens as if on a stage” and shielding us from loneliness and death.

Quase um Carimbo is an impressive debut poetry collection and I hope to translate more of it in the future.

Here are two poems by Leonor Sampaio da Silva in the original Portuguese and my translations into English:

manhã

acordo

uma personagem pragueja baixinho
pela noite mal dormida

o que farei se um Comboio transformar
a geografia deste lugar?

pensar no improvável tem sido
passatempo habitual
quase uma Obsessão

preocupa-me em demasia
a falta de uma Estação

—

morning

I wake up
a character curses softly
over the sleepless night

what will I do if a train transforms
the geography of this place?

thinking about the improbable has been
a regular hobby
almost an obsession

it worries me too much
the lack of a station

________

manhã

acordo

deve estar um dia quente a avaliar pela
temperatura do quarto

o corpo, o que é um corpo?

uma madeixa cortada
vivendo por um fio
enquanto aguarda reunir-se
à cabeça que dela se esqueceu

uma madeixa que se deixa
varrer
alisar
torcer em caracol
alourar ao sol

o sol, o que é o sol?

um corpo

—

morning

I wake up
it must be a hot day judging by
the temperature of the room

a body, what is a body?

a severed lock
living by a thread
while waiting to be reunited
with the head that has forgotten it

a lock that lets itself
sweep
smooth
twists into a curl
glistening in the sun

the sun, what is the sun?

a body

–Leonor Sampaio da Silva, from Quase um Carimbo

(translated from the Portuguese by Scott Edward Anderson)

___

Speaking of the island of São Miguel: I am excited to host a Writing Retreat there from 13-18 October 2023! Join me for 5 days of writing and immersion in the nature, food, and culture of the Azores. We’ll explore the island, focus with deep attention, expand our horizons, and tap into the stories within. Details and registration at https://www.scottedwardanderson.com/azores-retreat