I don't recall where I heard of the Portuguese poet Alberto Estima de Oliveira (1934-2008), but I'd wager that it was while reading about Macau, where he lived for 20 years. I bought two volumes of his work, O Diálogo do Silêncio and O Rosto, online last, and loved both of them. I haven't translated much Portuguese lately, and these poems are conveniently short, so here you go, caro leitor. Apologies for being a little rusty.
DAS
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1
nada do que temo
é a ruga
que me ensombra
a fronte
essa a sinto
no limiar do
espanto
-----
1
the wrinkle
that darkens
my brow
is not what i fear
i sense it
on the threshold of
surprise
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