Life of Christ, a poem by Pedro Mexia translate by Ana Hudson

In the improvised church hall,
disordered rows of chairs announced
a film on ‘the life of Christ’.
We were children, on holiday
at the seaside, who still took communion
untroubled, and in the company
of curious or loafing adults
went at eight sharp to the life of Christ.
But someone mixed up the films
or set up a mischievous prank,
and from the start we knew
it was not Palestine
that the dusty beam of light projected
onto such a makeshift screen
that we could only call a sheet.
And soon enough the story swept us on.
Vera Cruz, heraldic western, napoleonic,
almost operatic. People died
(and resurrected out of sight)
and someone thought that not being
about Christ it was an unsuitable tale
for us to see at bedtime.
But the children’s summer camp
took sides, prevailed,
embracing with full, small arms
the alienation effect, the human shadow.
In the end, I believe our eyes
had the shine of Maximilian’s
treacherous, belligerent enemies.
Forever gone the surprise, the purity,
the mutiny of fascination, the clear night.
It was never the same, the life of Christ.

© Translated by Ana Hudson, 2011

Vida de Cristo

No improvisado salão paroquial
velhas cadeiras desalinhadas anunciavam
um filme sobre «a vida de Cristo».
Éramos crianças, veraneantes,
figueirenses, crianças comungantes
mas ainda sem tormenta e com os adultos
curiosos ou tomados de fastio
fomos, oito da noite, para a vida de Cristo.
Mas alguém trocou os filmes
ou espalhou carnavalesco engano,
e logo na primeira bobine entendemos
que não era a Palestina
que o facho de luz poeirento projectava
no écran tão amador
que só podíamos chamar pantalha.
E aos poucos entrámos na narrativa.
Vera Cruz, western heráldico, napoleónico,
quase operático. Morria gente
(que ressuscitava fora de campo)
e houve quem achasse que não sendo sobre
Cristo era a fábula imprópria
antes de dormirmos.
Mas o acampamento estival das crianças
tomava partido, vitoriava,
abraçava com braços pequenos
o efeito de alienação, as sombras humanas.
Julgo que brilhavam no fim
os nossos olhos infiéis,
belicosos, inimigos de Maximiliano.
Esvaída para sempre a surpresa, a pureza,
o motim de fascínios, a noite clara.
Nunca mais foi a mesma, a vida de Cristo.

in Menos por Menos – Poemas Escolhidos, 2011

Our PBBI-Fresno State Project

Roots and Wings: Portuguese Poetry in Translation is a series that gathers voices from Portugal and introduces English language readers to a tradition at once intimate and expansive, where the rhythms of saudade echo across the Atlantic and the light of new lands refracts into verse.

Each poem is a journey: from the ancestral lands to homes throughout the English-speaking world, from classic poets who shaped a language to contemporary voices writing freedom, justice, and love into the present. Together, these poems are bridges between generations, geographies, and languages.

For Portuguese communities in North America, this series is a return to origins, a reclaiming of memory, and a celebration of their shared heritage. For all readers, it is an invitation to discover a lyrical heritage that speaks to the universal human condition — the desire for home, the ache of distance, and the wonder of words that, like wings, transcend borders.

This project is sponsored by the Luso-American Education Foundation.