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Ana Guadalupe (1985, Brazil) is a poet and translator. She has published 3 books of poetry with another forthcoming in 2026. Her poems have been featured in anthologies, literary websites and magazines in Brazil, Spain, Mexico, United States and Chile. She is the translator of more than 40 books (Sylvia Plath, Kazuo Ishiguro, Denis Johnson, etc.) published in Brazil.


Read five poems from Ana below. Originally featured online in Scrambler (March 2012). These poems are from her first book Relógio de pulso (7 Letras, 2011). All poems were translated by Ana Guadalupe and Jeremy Spencer.



lista de afazeres



aqui

bem

aqui as coisas continuam

as mesmas

mesmos copos de plástico

mesmos fios de cabelo castanho nos pratos

recolhidos rapidamente enquanto

um de nós serve

o almoço



to do list



here

well

here things continue

the same

same plastic cups

same brown threads of hair on plates

quickly removed while

one of us serves

lunch



queria ser a marisa tomei



analisar marisa

em mais um dos papéis

de esposa do traficante

amante do lutador de boxe

garçonete que se apaixona

pelo cardíaco triste e tímido

que tremerá de corpo inteiro

ao tocar a pele lisa e macia de marisa


marisa é vendedora de calcinhas

divorciada com filhos pequenos

dançarina no escuro das boates

marisa nunca está numa boa

e mesmo assim marisa se diverte

chega aos 60 com cara de 20

toma limonada e refrigerante

tiros sem perder o sorriso

facadas na sacada do flat

mais facadas numa quitinete



i wanted to be marisa tomei



to analyze marisa

in another role

as the wife of a drug dealer

boxer’s lover

waitress that falls in love

for the sad and timid cardiac

whose entire body will shake

from touching marisa’s soft and smooth skin


marisa is a seller of panties

divorced with small children

dancer in the dark of the clubs

marisa is never in a good mood

and even so marisa has fun

turns 60 looking like 20

takes lemonade and soda shots

without losing a smile

stabs on the apartment balcony

more stabbing in a kitchenette



guerra



tique nervoso

à espera de alguém

que venha


beber água

desabotoar as calças

jogar bola


atirar no macio

arrancar os músculos

acumular fôlego


pra sufocar

com o próprio peso

o peso do outro:


uma bigorna

um piano

um travesseiro



war



a nervous tick

waiting for someone

to come


to drink water

to unbutton pants

to play ball


to shoot softly

to pull muscles

to accumulate breath


to suffocate

under their own weight

the weight of another:


an anvil

a piano

a pillow



resultado da busca



melhor não

falar nada


a imaginar por

horas você triste

no ônibus


as pessoas rindo

da sua camisa

de banda


eu rindo

da sua camisa

de banda


eu rindo

das suas

camisas todas


melhor não

falar nada


a ficar procurando

seu nome

no google



search result



better not

to say anything


than imagine you

for hours sad

on the bus


people laughing

at your band

shirt


me laughing

at your band

shirt


me laughing

at all of

your shirts


better not to

say anything


than look up

your name

on google



chuva nos sapatos



a chuva dificulta

a semana que só íamos levando

como copo d’água da cozinha pro quarto

e do quarto pra cozinha

te peço que não leve pro banheiro

apenas pro interior do seu corpo

onde percorrerá vísceras que não percorro

monstro do lago e do pântano

a chuva interromperá de novo nosso único plano

mas cronometrará com cuidado o intervalo

entre você aí nos trilhos

e eu aqui aos solavancos



rain in your shoes



the rain worsens

the week we were only taking

like a glass of water from the kitchen to the bedroom

from the bedroom to the kitchen

i ask that you don’t take it to the bathroom

only to the inside of your body

where it’ll reach viscera that I can’t

monster of the pond and the swamp

the rain will interrupt our only plan

but carefully calculating the interval

between you there on the rails

and me here on the bumps



Scrambler 2003-