This afternoon, as I sat on a park bench,
I tried to read a difficult book
while waiting for you.
The book made waiting harder, more painful.
Then I lifted my eyes from the pages,
put the book aside; I saw a young man
approaching and going by
holding a plastic bag
full of red apples in one hand
and a carton of eggs in the other.
It was a transparent plastic bag
clearly revealing the perfect shape
and splendour of the apples, all together
like parts of a whole.
I couldn’t stop looking at them
and just then you came.
Only now, having had dinner and done
the washing, I remember the book
left abandoned on the bench.
Between the avidness of reading and a certain meta-poetic tension, Luis Filipe Parrado’s poetry builds up a space whose reading instructions are simple and almost suggested by himself: 'hands have to be well washed before sitting down at poetry's table.' Then one has to focus, un-focus, and focus again on the objects. It is the light that Luis Filipe Parrado brings onto the objects that is demanding.
Luís Filipe Parrado was born in Seixal, a small town on the south bank of the river Tagus. He is a secondary school teacher.
Poetry books since 2000:
Entre a Carne e o Osso (2012)