Respostas ao tópico: Victor Hugo

Mendigo.

Deus sonha "

(Trad. de Raimundo Correia)

O dia acorda! Deus por uma fresta
das nuvens a espreitar, ri-se. A floresta,
o campo, o inseto, o ninho sussurrante,
a aldeia, o sol que tinge a serrania...
Tudo isso acorda, quando acorda o dia
no fresco banho de ouro de Levante.

Deus sonha! Vasa os olhos d'água; pica
as artérias da terra; o liz fabrica;
e da matéria sonda o fundo ovário,
pinta as rosas de branco e de vermelho
e faz das asas do escaravelho
a surpresa do mundo planetário.

Homens! As férreas naus de velas largas,
monstros revéis, formidolosas cargas
do bruto oceano arfando às insolências;
extenuados os ventos, e nos flancos
longo enxame a arrastar de flocos brancos
de escuma, e raios, e fosforescências...

18:02 - 24/01/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

Poema para o Brasil

Poema dedicado ao Brasil, enviado ao clube republicano do estado da Paraíba, quando de sua criação, e que, não tendo sido publicado em nenhuma antologia póstuma, não figura nas edições de suas obras completas.
O poema é marcado por uma versificação bastante irregular

15:38 - 09/02/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

Amo vossa pátria de sempre puro céu
Paraíso azulado por ondas ao léu
Onde ardente como um feérico
farol
Cobre o chão da América de raios o sol
Sois a primavera e eu o inverno
sou
Sois dia fresco e claro e no poente
estou
E gosto de ver a desmanchar-se a aurora Sim! Sinto força e alegria que em mim
aflora
A vos ver. Cresceis. A Europa, o velho
mundo
Na história viveu o rápido segundo
De sua vida. Sereis a Europa
então.
O momento é crítico. Ah! Tomai a
mão
Do grande Futuro que vos aguarda.
E assim sob árvores douradas num Brasil sem fim
Passarão o Progresso, a Força e a Luz:

15:38 - 09/02/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

J’aime votre patrie au ciel toujours pur,
Paradis qui se berce entre les flots d’azur,
Où le soleil brûlant, comme un phare
féerique,
Couvre de ses rayons le sol de l’Amérique.
Vous êtes le printemps et moi, je suis
l’hiver;
Je suis le soir tombant, vous le jour frais
et clair,
Et j’aime à regarder l’aurore s’épanouir.
Oui! je sens de la force et de la joie me
venir
À vous voir. Vous croissez. L’Europe, le
vieux monde,
Dans l’histoire a vécu la rapide seconde
De sa vie. Vous serez l’Europe,
après-demain.
Le moment est critique. Eh! bien, prenez
la main
De l’Avenir puissant qui vous attend.
Alors, Dans ce vaste Brésil aux arbres semés d’or,
Passeront le Progrès, la Force et la Clarté:
On voit sur votre front une aurore d’été.

15:40 - 09/02/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

Elogio do Revolucionário

Quando aumenta a repressão, muitos desanimam.
Mas a coragem dele aumenta.
Organiza sua luta pelo salário, pelo pão
e pela conquista do poder.
Interroga a propriedade:
De onde vens?
Pergunta a cada idéia:
Serves a quem?
Ali onde todos calam, ele fala
E onde reina a opressão e se acusa o destino,
ele cita os nomes.
À mesa onde ele se senta
se senta a insatisfação.
À comida sabe mal e a sala se torna estreita.
Aonde o vai a revolta
e de onde o expulsam
persiste a agitação.

15:40 - 09/02/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

Deus

Redenção! Mistério! Ó Grande Cristo estrelado!
... Oh perdão! Oh piedade do azul da noite!
... Clemência! palavra formada de todas as estrelas!
Deus! Céu de todos os olhos! porto de todas as velas!

15:42 - 09/02/2007 Apagar

Mendigo.

Be Still, My Soul, Be Still

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,-- call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?

Alfred Edward Housman

13:06 - 24/06/2009 Apagar

Mendigo.

Revenge

1 Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreath'd hair,
2 And gaze upon her smile;
3 Seem as you drank the very air
4 Her breath perfumed the while;

5 And wake for her the gifted line,
6 That wild and witching lay,
7 And swear your heart is as a shrine,
8 That only holds her sway.

9 'Tis well: I am revenged at last;--
10 Mark you that scornful cheek,--
11 The eye averted as you pass'd,
12 Spoke more than words could speak.

13 Ay, now by all the bitter tears
14 That I have shed for thee,--
15 The racking doubts, the burning fears,--
16 Avenged they well may be--

17 By the nights pass'd in sleepless care,
18 The days of endless woe;
19 All that you taught my heart to bear,
20 All that yourself will know.

21 I would not wish to see you laid
22 Within an early tomb;
23 I should forget how you betray'd,
24 And only weep your doom:

25 But this is fitting punishment,
26 To live and love in vain,--
27 O my wrung heart, be thou conten

13:07 - 24/06/2009 Apagar

Mendigo.

Continua...

25 But this is fitting punishment,
26 To live and love in vain,--
27 O my wrung heart, be thou content,
28 And feed upon his pain.

29 Go thou and watch her lightest sigh,--
30 Thine own it will not be;
31 And bask beneath her sunny eye,--
32 It will not turn on thee.

33 'Tis well: the rack, the chain, the wheel,
34 Far better hadst thou proved;
35 Ev'n I could almost pity feel,
36 For thou art nor beloved.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

13:08 - 24/06/2009 Apagar

Mendigo.

First Love

I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

John Clare

13:09 - 24/06/2009 Apagar