"Desdéns" by Raimundo Correia (in English)

Realçam no marfim da ventarola

As tuas unhas de coral felinas

Garras com que, a sorrir, tu me assassinas,

Bela e feroz... O sândalo se evolua;

O ar cheiroso em redor se desenrola;

Pulsam os seios, arfam as narinas...

Sobre o espaldar de seda o torso inclinas

Numa indolência mórbida, espanhola...

Como eu sou infeliz! Como é sangrenta

Essa mão impiedosa que me arranca

A vida aos poucos, nesta morte lenta!

Essa mão de fidalga, fina e branca;

Essa mão, que me atrai e me afugenta,

Que eu afago, que eu beijo, e que me espanca!

"Como Nuvens que Passam" (Canto I) by José Thiesen (in Portuguese)

Canto I

     Enquanto vagava solitário por aqueles caminhos arenosos ladeados por plátanos frondosos, meditava sobre as emoções revoltas no meu coração.

     Ouvia o Argento correr célere alguns metros à minha direita. Um rapaz de rosto desagradável passou por mim a pedalar bicicleta velha, rangenta.

     Parei por um momento e o rosto de Cláudio dançou à minha frente.

     Corri a mão por meus cabelos. Alguns garotos, filhos de camponeses, corriam para a praia.

     Respirei fundo aquele ar e senti cheiro de saudade, polenta, New York, mamma Rosa e de homem. De Luciano.

"Primeiro Motivo da Rosa" by Cecília Meireles (in Portuguese)

Vejo-te em seda e nácar,

E tão de orvalho trêmula, que penso ver, efêmera,

Toda a Beleza em lágrimas

Por ser bela e ser frágil.

Meus olhos te ofereço:

Espelho para face

Que terás, no meu verso,

quando, depois que passes,

jamais ninguém te esqueça.

Então, de seda e nácar,

Toda de orvalho trêmula, serás eterna. E efêmero

O rosto meu, nas lágrimas

Do teu orvalho... E frágil.

"The Song of the Bats" by Robert E. Howard (in English)

The dusk was on the mountain

And the stars were dim and frail

When the bats came flying, flying

From the river and the vale

To wheel against the twilight

And sing their witchy tale.

"We were kings of old!" they chanted,

"Rulers of a world enchanted;

"Every nation of creation

"Owned our lordship over men.

"Diadems of power crowned us,

"Then rose Solomon to confound us,

"In the form of beasts he bound us,

"So our rule was broken then."

Whirling, wheeling into westward,

Fled they in their phantom flight;

Was it but a wing-beat music

Murmured through the star-gemmed night?

Or the singing of a ghost clan

Whispering of forgotten might?

"An Inscription" by Oscar Wilde (in English)

Go little book,

To him who, on a lute with horns of pearl,

Sang of the white feet of the Golden Girl:

And bid him look

Into thy pages: it may hap that he

May find that golden maidens dance through thee.

"The Command of General Mu" by Unknown Writer (in English)

War Action vol.2 #3 - Atlas, June-1952.

"Not All The Singers of a Thousand Years" by Lord Alfred Douglas (in English)

Not all the singers of a thousand years

Can open English prisons. No. Though hell

Opened for Tracian Orpheus, now the spell

Of song and art is powerless as the tears

That love has shed. You that were full of fears,

And mean self-love, shall live to know full well

That you yourselves, not he, were pitiable

When you met mercy's voice with frowns or jeers.

And did you ask who signed the plea with you?

Fools! It was signed already with the sign

Of great dead men, of God-like Socrates,

Shakespeare and Plato and the Florentine

Who conquered form. And all your pretty crew

Once, and once only, might have stood with these.