The sun Poem by Gonçalo Manuel Tavares

In childhood the Sun was a taller companion,
appearing first on the football pitch, and there, standing still,
it guarded the back of the nets and the grass that grew warmer.
As if the sun were in fact a cooking utensil, matter
that the kids grabbed with their fingers and whose
intensity they could regulate at will.
For instance: when the light was excessive
the fingers protected the eyes. Other times
the body seemed like the instinctive, natural
conclusion of the heat that came from above:
A sentence. Was there more sun when I was six
(who made it?) or have I grown more distracted
with time and tedium?

Translated by Ana Hudson