Minha face no espelho
Me olha e sorri.
Minha corrida ao espelho
Levou-me ao nada,
Vazio de angústia brava.
Louco, furioso, no espelho
Recordo o caminho feito.
Quero voltar mas o
Regresso no espelho
É ir mais fundo no vazio
Que ocuparei um dia.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
Tuesday, 12 November 2013
Monday, 11 November 2013
"The Song of Songs of Solomon" (Chapter I in Spanish)
1 The Song of Songs of Solomon.
2 Bride: Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth!
More delightful is your love than wine!
3 Your name spoken is a
spreading perfume -
that is why the maidens love you.
4 Draw me!-
Daughters of Jerusalem: We will
follow you eagerly!
Bride: Bring me,
O king, to your chambers.
Daughters of Jerusalem: With you
we rejoice and exult,
we extol your love; it is beyond wine:
how rightly you are loved!
(First Poem)
5 Bride: I am as dark-but lovely,
O daughters of Jerusalem
-
As the tents of Kedar,
as the curtains of Salma.
6 Do not stare at me because
I am swarthy,
because the sun has burned me.
My brothers have been angry with me;
they charged me with the care of the vineyards:
my own vineyard I have not cared for.
7 Bride: Tell me, you whom my heart loves,
where you pasture your flock,
where you give them rest at midday,
Lest I be found wandering
after the flocks of your companions.
8 Bridegroom: If you do not know,
O most beautiful among women,
Follow the tracks of the flock
and pasture the young ones
near the shepherds' camps.
9 Bridegroom: To the steeds of Pharaoh's chariots
would I liken you, my beloved:
10 Your cheeks lovely in
pendants,
your neck in jewels.
11 We will make pendants of
gold for you,
and silver ornaments.
12 Bride: For the king's banquet
my nard gives forth its fragrance.
13 My lover is for me a
sachet of myrrh
to rest in my bosom.
14 My lover is for me a
cluster of henna
from the vineyards of Engedi.
15 Bridegroom: Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved,
ah, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves!
16 Bride: Ah, you are beautiful, my lover -
yes, you are lovely.
Our couch, too, is verdant;
17 the beams of our house are
cedars,
our rafters, cypresses.
Sunday, 10 November 2013
"Irene no Céu" by Manuel Bandeira (in Portuguese)
Irene preta
Irene boa
Irene sempre de
bom humor.
Imagino Irene
entrando no céu:
- Licença, meu
branco!
E São Pedro
bonachão:
- Entra, Irene.
Você não precisa pedir licença
"A Prayer" by Lord Alfred Douglas (in English)
Often the western wind has sung to me,
There have been voices in the streams and meres,
And pitiful trees have told me, God, of Thee :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
The reeds have whispered low as I passed by,
' Be strong, O friend, be strong, put off vain fears,
Vex not they soul with doubts, God cannot lie ' :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
There have been many stars to guide my feet,
Often the delicate moon, hearing my sighs,
Has rent the clouds and shown a silver street;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
Angels have beckoned me unceasingly,
And walked with me ; and from the sombre skies
Dear Christ Himself has stretched out hands to me ;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
Saturday, 9 November 2013
Ismália by Alphonsus de Guimaraens (in Portuguese)
Quando Ismália enlouqueceu,
Pôs-se na torre a sonhar...
Viu uma lua no céu,
Viu outra lua no mar.
No sonho em que se perdeu,
Banhou-se toda em luar...
Queria subir ao céu,
Queria descer ao mar...
E, no desvario seu,
Na torre pôs-se a cantar...
Estava perto do céu,
Estava longe do mar...
E como um anjo pendeu
As asas para voar...
Queria a lua do céu,
Queria a lua do mar...
As asas que Deus lhe deu
Ruflaram de par em par...
Sua alma subiu ao céu,
Seu corpo desceu ao mar...
Friday, 8 November 2013
"Villancico" by St. Therese of Avila (in Spanish)
Vivo sin vivir en
mí
y tan alta vida
espero
que muero porque
no muero.
Vivo ya fuera de
mí,
después que muero
de amor,
porque vivo en el
Señor,
que me quiso para
sí;
cuando el corazón
le di
puso en mí este
letrero:
«Que muero porque
no muero».
Esta divina
unión,
y el amor con que
yo vivo,
hace a mi Dios mi
cautivo
y libre mi
corazón;
y causa en mí tal
pasión
ver a mi Dios
prisionero,
que muero porque
no muero.
¡Ay, qué larga es
esta vida!
¡Qué duros estos
destierros,
esta cárcel y
estos hierros
en que está el
alma metida!
Sólo esperar la
salida
me causa un dolor
tan fiero,
que muero porque
no muero.
Acaba ya de
dejarme,
vida, no me seas
molesta;
porque muriendo,
¿qué resta,
sino vivir y
gozarme?
No dejes de
consolarme,
muerte, que ansí
te requiero:
que muero porque
no muero.
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