The
saddest poem
I can write the saddest
poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance:
"The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue,
shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls
in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest
poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes
she loved me too.
On nights like this,
I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many
times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes
I loved her.
How could I not have
loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest
poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have
her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense
night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls
to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter
that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of
stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away,
someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without
her.
As if to bring her
near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for
her and she is not with me.
The same night that
whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we
are the same no longer.
I no longer love her,
true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the
wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She
will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light
body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her,
true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and
oblivion so long.
Because on nights
like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without
her.
Although this may
be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the
last poem I write for her.
Alentejo
Seen From The Train
Alentejo Seen From The
Train
Nothing with nothing
around it
And a few trees in
between
None of wich very clearly
green,
Where no river or flower
pays a visit.
If there be a hell,
I've found it,
For if ain't here,
where the Devil it is?
(1907)
Alentejo Visto de
comboio
Nada com só
nada à volta
E umas árvores
à mistura
Nenhuma delas verdura,
Que rio ou flor não
enflora.
Se há inferno,
dei com ele,
Pois se não
é aqui, onde diabo será ele?
Tradução de Jorge de Sena
Meantime
Far away, far away,
Far away from here...
There is no worry after
joy
Or away from fear
Far away from here.
Her lips were not
very red,
Not her hair quite gold.
Her hands played with
rings.
She did not let me hold
Her hands playing with
gold.
She is something past,
Far away from pain.
Joy can touch her not,
nor hope
Enter her domain,
Neither love in vain.
Perhaps at some day
beyond
Shadows and light
She will think of me
and make
All me a delight
All away from sight.
(19??)
Intervalo
Longe, muito longe,
Bem longe daqui...
Não há
mágoa após o gozo
Ou do medo fugir
Bem longe daqui.
Seus lábios
não muito rubros,
Cabelo não muito louro.
Mãos brincavam
com aneis.
Que eu pegasse não deixou
Nas mãos brincando
com ouro.
Como ela é
de outrora,
E da dor distante.
Goza a não toca,
e esperar
Não pisa o seu chão,
Nem o amor em vão.
Para além,
talvez que um dia,
Das sombras a arder,
Ela me pense e me faça
Um inteiro prazer
Bem longe do ver.
Tradução de Jorge de Sena
|