tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226408252024-03-19T00:55:22.927-03:00Dove c'è poesia, c'è ancora vitaPílulas de sanidade para a vidaMarcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-2876131695571049582010-03-21T19:18:00.000-03:002010-03-21T19:22:22.455-03:00Canto Esponjoso<div>Carlos Drummond de Andrade</div><div><br /></div><div>Bela</div><div>esta manhã sem carência de mito,</div><div>e mel sorvido sem blasfémia.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bela</div><div>esta manhã ou outra possível,</div><div>esta vida ou outra invenção,</div><div>sem, na sombra, fantasmas.</div><div><br /></div><div>Umidade de areia adere ao pé.</div><div>engulo o mar, que me engole.</div><div>Valvas, curvos pensamentos, matizes da luz</div><div>azul</div><div>completa</div><div>sobre formas constituídas.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bela,</div><div>a passagem do corpo, sua fusão</div><div>no corpo geral do mundo.</div><div>Vontade de cantar. Mas tão absoluta</div><div>que me calo, repleto.</div>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-56478108972394848102008-12-30T09:52:00.000-02:002008-12-30T09:53:37.351-02:00the next time around<div>Little joy (Fabrizio Moretti)</div><div><br /></div><div>One too many goals</div><div>That measure out your worth</div><div>To seek your weight in gold</div><div><br /></div><div>Sat by the ivory sill</div><div>The further out you look</div><div>The further out you'll be</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not enough to set the terms</div><div>If nothing ventured, nothing earned</div><div>Though odds are set against</div><div><br /></div><div>In time, I'll belong to you</div><div>It's how it's meant to be</div><div><br /></div><div>Settled on your own</div><div>Sweeping dust from stones</div><div>With a letter home</div><div><br /></div><div>Back where the hour's long</div><div>The simplest things invite a thrill</div><div>If just by noticing at will</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not enough to set the terms</div><div>If nothing ventured, nothing earned</div><div>It's how it's always been</div><div><br /></div><div>E onde a sorte há de te levar</div><div>Saiba, o caminho é o fim, mais que chegar</div><div>E queira o dia ser gentil</div><div>À tua mão aberta pra quem é</div><div><br /></div><div>In time, I'll belong to you</div><div>That's how it's meant to be</div><div>And how it's always been</div>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-70313558117319825372008-11-13T23:46:00.001-02:002008-11-13T23:50:42.236-02:00Bilhete com endereçoMario Quintana<br /><br />Mas onde já se ouviu falar num amor á distância, <br />Num teleamor ?! <br />Num amor de longe… <br />Eu sonho é um amor pertinho… <br />E depois <br />Esse calor humano é uma coisa que todos - até os executivos têm <br />É algo que acaba se perdendo no ar <br />No vento <br />No frio que agora faz… <br />Escuta! <br />O que eu quero <br />O que eu amo <br />O que eu desejo em ti <br />È teu calor animal…<br /><br />Baú de espantos, Editora Globo, Rio de Janeiro, 1986Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-11252866849943686602008-11-03T12:05:00.002-02:002008-11-03T12:13:18.674-02:00Fall On Me<div>REM</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-O8_IO5R_JTa6RG1kwrilh0NESdUOC_KBrlxwhO7rXItQAe-ZEUzxZFjDSd7probYzPvFuo4pWQQRXOlPSMT17ov-yqRcpda8sV2v1Z2fgR5m76DR5abEO0v4-m9suLQJuUk/s400/DSC00024.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264433952453088530" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There's a problem feathers iron</div><div>Bargain buildings weights and pulleys</div><div>Feathers hit the ground</div><div>Before the weight can leave the air</div><div><br /></div><div>Buy the sky and sell the sky<br /></div><div>And tell the sky and tell the sky</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't fall on me<br /></div><div> What is it up in the air for</div><div>Fall on me</div><div> If it's there for long</div><div>Fall on me</div><div> It's over it's over me</div><div><br /></div><div>There's the progress we have found<br /></div><div>A way to talk around the problem</div><div>Building towered foresight</div><div>Isn't anything at all</div><div><br /></div><div>Buy the sky and sell the sky</div><div>And bleed the sky and tell the sky</div><div><br /></div><div>Fall on me<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Well I would keep it above<br /></div><div>But then it wouldn't be sky anymore</div><div>So if I send it to you</div><div>You've got to promise to keep it whole</div><div><br /></div><div>Buy the sky and sell the sky<br /></div><div>And lift your arms up to the sky</div><div>And ask the sky and ask the sky</div>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-21482722990376112612008-10-04T10:39:00.001-03:002008-10-04T10:39:28.525-03:00Duas almas<div>Alceu Wamosy <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Ó tu, que vens de longe, ó tu, que vens cansada, </div><div>entra, e sob este teto encontrarás carinho: </div><div>eu nunca fui amado, e vivo tão sozinho, </div><div>vives sozinha sempre, e nunca foste amada… </div><div><br /></div><div>A neve anda a branquear, lividamente, a estrada, </div><div>e a minha alcova tem a tepidez de um ninho. </div><div>Entra, ao menos até que as curvas do caminho </div><div>se banhem no esplendor nascente da alvorada. </div><div><br /></div><div>E amanhã, quando a luz do sol dourar, radiosa, </div><div>essa estrada sem fim, deserta, imensa e nua, </div><div>podes partir de novo, ó nômade formosa! </div><div><br /></div><div>Já não serei tão só, nem irás tão sozinha. </div><div>Há de ficar comigo uma saudade tua… </div><div>Hás de levar contigo uma saudade minha… </div>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-64279742702968587192008-09-05T11:09:00.000-03:002008-09-05T11:10:20.462-03:00Los Cuatro MulerosFederico García Lorca<br /><br />1<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">De los cuatro muleros<br />que van al campo,<br />el de la mula torda,<br />moreno y alto.</span><br /><br />2<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">De los cuatro muleros<br />que van al agua,<br />el de la mula torda<br />me roba el alma.</span><br /><br />3<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">De los cuatro muleros<br />que van al río,<br />el de la mula torda<br />es mi marío.</span><br /><br />4<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">¿A qué buscas la lumbre<br />la calle arriba,<br />si de tu cara sale<br />la brasa viva?</span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-12008483181182668782008-07-09T21:11:00.000-03:002008-07-09T21:12:33.896-03:00Se me é negado o amorRabindranath Tagore<br /><br />Se me é negado o amor, por que, então, amanhece;<br />por que sussurra o vento do sul entre as folhas recém nascidas?<br />Se me é negado o amor, por que, então,<br />a noite entristece com nostálgico silêncio as estrelas?<br />E por que este desatinado coração continua,<br />esperançado e louco, olhando o mar infinito?Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-71577626094775855632008-05-31T11:49:00.000-03:002008-05-31T22:25:11.089-03:00Horizonte distante<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKc_7DMrV1cxWLXRh-sS4Ctts9XdXsgLkOL53kM3NwjSl0lPLovJyQUXBYdKNNpLcl1n9vNJ678uLjJS-GQbSMXnjyG3ASzHTCgmiMTaDZRTs0zlvGOhB3nLAjLUZFhHLBPiQ/s1600-h/Horizonte+distante.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKc_7DMrV1cxWLXRh-sS4Ctts9XdXsgLkOL53kM3NwjSl0lPLovJyQUXBYdKNNpLcl1n9vNJ678uLjJS-GQbSMXnjyG3ASzHTCgmiMTaDZRTs0zlvGOhB3nLAjLUZFhHLBPiQ/s400/Horizonte+distante.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206717859965161554" /></a><br /><p>Marcelo Camelo </p> <p>Por onde vou guiar <br />o olhar que não enxerga mais</p> <p>Dá-me luz, ó Deus do tempo <br />Dá-me luz, ó Deus do tempo <br />Nesse momento menor <br />pr'eu saber seu redor </p> <p>A gente quer ver <br />o horizonte distante </p> <p>A gente quer ver <br />o horizonte distante </p> <p>Aprumar </p> <p>Através eu vi <br />só o amor é luz <br />e há de estar daqui <br />até alto e amanhã</p> <p>Quem fica com o tempo <br />eu faço dele meu <br />e não me falta o passo, coração <br />e não me falta o passo, coração </p> <p>Avante </p> <p>A gente quer ver <br />o horizonte distante </p> <p>A gente quer ver <br />o horizonte distante </p> <p>Aprumar</p>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-44504414871875174142008-02-01T23:53:00.000-02:002008-02-01T23:54:10.194-02:00Deixa-me seguir para o marMário Quintana<br /><br />Tenta esquecer-me...<br />Ser lembrado é como evocar<br />Um fantasma...<br />Deixa-me ser o que sou,<br />O que sempre fui, um rio que vai fluindo...<br />Em vão, em minhas margens cantarão as horas,<br />Me recamarei de estrelas como um manto real,<br />Me bordarei de nuvens e de asas,<br />Às vezes virão a mim as crianças banhar-se...<br />Um espelho não guarda as coisas refletidas!<br />E o meu destino é seguir... é seguir para o Mar,<br />As imagens perdendo no caminho...<br />Deixa-me fluir, passar, cantar...<br />Toda a tristeza dos rios<br />É não poder parar!<br /><br />Baú de espantos, Editora Globo, Rio de Janeiro, 1986Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-68079720837062948832008-01-09T10:50:00.000-02:002008-01-09T10:51:46.771-02:00As I Walked Out One EveningWH Auden<br /><br />As I walked out one evening,<br />Walking down Bristol Street,<br />The crowds upon the pavement<br />Were fields of harvest wheat.<br /><br />And down by the brimming river<br />I heard a lover sing<br />Under an arch of the railway:<br />'Love has no ending.<br /><br />'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you<br />Till China and Africa meet,<br />And the river jumps over the mountain<br />And the salmon sing in the street,<br /><br />'I'll love you till the ocean<br />Is folded and hung up to dry<br />And the seven stars go squawking<br />Like geese about the sky.<br /><br />'The years shall run like rabbits,<br />For in my arms I hold<br />The Flower of the Ages,<br />And the first love of the world.'<br /><br />But all the clocks in the city<br />Began to whirr and chime:<br />'O let not Time deceive you,<br />You cannot conquer Time.<br /><br />'In the burrows of the Nightmare<br />Where Justice naked is,<br />Time watches from the shadow<br />And coughs when you would kiss.<br /><br />'In headaches and in worry<br />Vaguely life leaks away,<br />And Time will have his fancy<br />To-morrow or to-day.<br /><br />'Into many a green valley<br />Drifts the appalling snow;<br />Time breaks the threaded dances<br />And the diver's brilliant bow.<br /><br />'O plunge your hands in water,<br />Plunge them in up to the wrist;<br />Stare, stare in the basin<br />And wonder what you've missed.<br /><br />'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,<br />The desert sighs in the bed,<br />And the crack in the tea-cup opens<br />A lane to the land of the dead.<br /><br />'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes<br />And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,<br />And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,<br />And Jill goes down on her back.<br /><br />'O look, look in the mirror?<br />O look in your distress:<br />Life remains a blessing<br />Although you cannot bless.<br /><br />'O stand, stand at the window<br />As the tears scald and start;<br />You shall love your crooked neighbour<br />With your crooked heart.'<br /><br />It was late, late in the evening,<br />The lovers they were gone;<br />The clocks had ceased their chiming,<br />And the deep river ran on.Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-81166439163617392842008-01-01T10:08:00.000-02:002008-01-01T10:09:29.402-02:00Mein Herz, ich will dich fragenFriedrich Halm 1806-1871<br /><br />Mein Herz, ich will dich fragen,<br />Was ist denn Liebe, sag'? -<br />"Zwei Seelen und ein Gedanke,<br />Zwei Herzen und ein Schlag!"<br /><br />Und sprich, woher, woher kommt Liebe? -<br />"Sie kömmt und sie ist da!"<br />Und sprich, wie schwindet Liebe? -<br />"Die war's nicht, der's geschah!"<br /><br />Und was ist reine Liebe? -<br />"Die ihrer selbst vergißt!"<br />Und wann ist Lieb' am tiefsten? -<br />"Wenn sie am stillsten ist!"<br /><br />Und wann ist Lieb' am reichsten? -<br />"Das ist sie, wenn sie gibt!"<br />Und sprich, wie redet Liebe? -<br />"Sie redet nicht, sie liebt!"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Meu coração, quero te perguntar</span><br />Friedrich Halm 1806-1871<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Meu coração, quero te perguntar,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que é o amor? Diga.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Duas almas e um pensamento,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">dois corações e uma batida!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E me fale, de onde, de onde vem o amor?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Ele vem e é daqui!”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E fale, como diminui o amor?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Isso eu não sei, apenas acontece!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E o que é o amor puro?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“É esquecer-se a si mesmo!”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E quando o amor é mais profundo?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Quanto mais calmo ele for”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E quando o amor é mais rico?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“É quando ele se dá!”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E diga, como fala o amor?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Ele não fala, ele ama!”</span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-19954180867538815582007-12-31T11:25:00.000-02:002007-12-31T11:26:47.069-02:00Estou CansadoÁlvaro de Campos<br /><br />Estou cansado, é claro,<br />Porque, a certa altura, a gente tem que estar cansado.<br />De que estou cansado, não sei:<br />De nada me serviria sabê-lo,<br />Pois o cansaço fica na mesma.<br />A ferida dói como dói<br />E não em função da causa que a produziu.<br />Sim, estou cansado,<br />E um pouco sorridente<br />De o cansaço ser só isto —<br />Uma vontade de sono no corpo,<br />Um desejo de não pensar na alma,<br />E por cima de tudo uma transparência lúcidaMarcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-26249049785991527122007-12-12T10:27:00.001-02:002007-12-12T10:27:59.978-02:00LÍLITCHKA!<span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Em lugar de uma carta<br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><br />Fumo de tabaco rói o ar.<br />O quarto —<br />um capítulo do inferno de Krutchônikh. </span><sup><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;">(1) </span></sup><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><br />Recorda —<br />atrás desta janela<br />pela primeira vez<br />apertei tuas mãos, atônito.<br />Hoje te sentas,<br />no coração — aço.<br />Um dia mais<br />e me expulsarás,<br />talvez, com zanga.<br />No teu <i>hall</i> escuro longamente o braço,<br />trêmulo, se recusa a entrar na manga.<br />Sairei correndo,<br />lançarei meu corpo à rua .<br />Transtornado,<br />tornado<br />louco pelo desespero.<br />Não o consintas,<br />meu amor, meu bem,<br />digamos até logo agora.<br />De qualquer forma<br />o meu amor<br />— duro fardo por certo —<br />pesará sobre ti<br />onde quer que te encontres.<br />Deixa que o fel da mágoa ressentida<br />num último grito estronde.<br />Quando um boi está morto de trabalho<br />ele se vai<br />e se deita na água fria.<br />Afora o teu amor<br />para mim<br />não há mar,<br />e a dor do teu amor nem a lágrima alivia.<br />Quando o elefante cansado quer repouso<br />ele jaz como um rei na areia ardente.<br />Afora o teu amor<br />para mim<br />não há sol,<br />e eu não sei onde estás e com quem.<br />Se ela assim torturasse um poeta,<br />ele trocaria sua amada por dinheiro e glória,<br />mas a mim<br />nenhum som me importa<br />afora o som do teu nome que eu adoro.<br />E não me lançarei no abismo,<br />e não beberei veneno,<br />e não poderei apertar na têmpora o gatilho.<br />Afora<br />o teu olhar<br />nenhuma lâmina me atrai com seu brilho.<br />Amanhã esquecerás<br />que eu te pus num pedestal,<br />que incendiei de amor uma alma livre,<br />e os dias vãos — rodopiante carnaval —<br />dispersarão as folhas dos meus livros...<br />Acaso as folhas secas destes versos<br />far-te-ão parar,<br />respiração opressa?<br />Deixa-me ao menos<br />arrelvar numa última carícia<br />teu passo que se apressa.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;">1916<br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;"> (Tradução: Augusto de Campos)<br /><br />(1) Alusão ao poema "Um jogo no inferno",<br />de A. Krutchônikh e V. Khliébnikov. </span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-6020434743737025712007-11-24T11:27:00.000-02:002007-11-24T11:29:01.381-02:00Poesia"La poesia è l'arte di far entrare il mare in un bicchiere"<br />-- Italo Calvino<br /><br />"A poesia é a arte de fazer o mar entrar num copo d’água".Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-90042364014588039582007-11-18T09:31:00.000-02:002007-11-18T09:32:04.000-02:00Tus ojosJuan Antonio Pérez Bonalde<br /><br />Entre mi vida de enojos<br />y tus clarísimos ojos<br />hay una gran relación:<br />pues son, en su semejanza,<br />grandes como mi esperanza,<br />negros como mi aflicción.Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-82221342087398397502007-11-05T08:51:00.000-02:002007-11-05T08:53:07.482-02:00Cercava il cuore...guardava il Niente e ne vedeva il cuore,<br />cercava il Cuore e non vedeva niente...<br /><br />Valerio Magrelli<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...olhava o Nada e via o coração,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">procurava o Coração e não via nada...</span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-70195938950610537612007-11-03T10:31:00.000-02:002007-11-03T10:34:35.446-02:00A educação pela pedra<p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"><b>João Cabral de Melo Neto<br /></b></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"><i>Uma educação pela pedra: por lições;<br /> Para aprender da pedra, freqüentá-la;<br /> Captar sua voz inenfática, impessoal<br /> (pela de dicção ela começa as aulas).<br /> A lição de moral, sua resistência fria<br /> Ao que flui e a fluir, a ser maleada;<br /> A de poética, sua carnadura concreta;<br /> A de economia, seu adensar-se compacta:<br /> Lições da pedra (de fora para dentro,<br /> Cartilha muda), para quem soletrá-la.</i></span></p> <span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"><i>Outra educação pela pedra: no Sertão<br /> (de dentro para fora, e pré-didática).<br /> No Sertão a pedra não sabe lecionar,<br /> E se lecionasse, não ensinaria nada;<br /> Lá não se aprende a pedra: lá a pedra,<br /> Uma pedra de nascença, entranha a alma.</i></span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-53282529340067462342007-10-17T09:56:00.000-02:002007-11-18T13:52:13.388-02:00Ll'ammoreAntonio de Curtis (Totò)<br /><br />Ll'ammore è comme fosse nu malanno<br />ca, all'intrasatta, schioppa dint' 'o core<br />senza n'avvertimento, senza affanno,<br />e te pò ffà murì senza dulore.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">O amor</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">O amor é como uma doença</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">que, de repente, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">adentra o coração e</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">sem advertência, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">sem afã, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">pode </span><span style="font-style: italic;">te fazer morrer sem dor.<br /><br />ou<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">O amor</span><br /><br />Como se uma doença fosse,<br />o amor adentra o coração<br />e sem advertência, doce,<br />te mata sem dor, de paixão.<br /></span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-88023088831723377892007-10-15T09:35:00.000-02:002007-10-15T09:36:56.600-02:00A Genialidade da MultidãoCharles Bukowski<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Há bastante deslealdade, ódio, violência,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Absurdo no ser humano comum</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Para suprir qualquer exército em qualquer dia.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E O Melhor No Assassinato São Aqueles</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Pregam Contra Ele.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E O Melhor No Ódio</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">São Aqueles Que Pregam AMOR</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E O MELHOR NA GUERRA --FINALMENTE--</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">SÃO AQUELES QUE PREGAM A PAZ</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Aqueles Que Pregam DEUS</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">PRECISAM de Deus</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Aqueles Que Pregam PAZ</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Não têm paz.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">AQUELES QUE PREGAM AMOR</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">NÃO TÊM AMOR</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">CUIDADO COM OS PREGADORES</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cuidado com os Sabedores.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cuidado Com Aqueles Que Estão SEMPRE LENDO LIVROS</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cuidado Com Aqueles Que Detestam Pobreza</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ou Que São Orgulhosos Dela</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">CUIDADO Com Aqueles Que Elogiam Fácil</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Porque Eles Precisam De ELOGIOS De Volta</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">CUIDADO Com Aqueles Que Censuram Fácil:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Têm Medo Daquilo Que Não Conhecem</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cuidado Com Aqueles Que Procuram Constantes Multidões;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Não São Nada Sozinhos</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cuidado Com O Homem Comum</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Com A Mulher Comum</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">CUIDADO Com O Amor Deles</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">O Amor Deles É Comum,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Procura O Comum</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mas Há Genialidade Em Seu Ódio</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Há Bastante Genialidade</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Para Matar Você,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Para Matar Qualquer Um.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sem Esperar Solidão</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sem Entender Solidão</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Tentarão Destruir</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Qualquer Coisa</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Seja Diferente Deles Mesmos</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Incapazes De Criar Arte</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Não Irão Compreender Arte</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Vão Considerar Sua Falha Como Criadores</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Apenas Como Uma Falha Do Mundo</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Incapazes De Amar Completamente</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eles Vão ACREDITAR</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Que Seu Amor É Incompleto</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E ELES VÃO ODIAR VOCÊ</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">E Seu Ódio Será Perfeito</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Como Um Diamante Brilhante</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Como Uma Faca</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Como Uma Montanha</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">COMO UM TIGRE</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">COMO Cicuta</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sua Mais Fina ARTE</span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-81927106188026931922007-10-07T10:41:00.000-03:002007-10-07T10:42:14.218-03:00Eloisa to AbelardAlexander Pope<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In these deep solitudes and awful cells,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And ever-musing melancholy reigns;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">O write it not, my hand — the name appears</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Already written — wash it out, my tears!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have not yet forgot myself to stone.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That well-known name awakens all my woes.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I tremble too, where'er my own I find,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Some dire misfortune follows close behind.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Led through a sad variety of woe:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There died the best of passions, love and fame. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And is my Abelard less kind than they?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No happier task these faded eyes pursue;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To read and weep is all they now can do. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The virgin's wish without her fears impart,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And truths divine came mended from that tongue.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Curse on all laws but those which love has made!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">August her deed, and sacred be her fame;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Before true passion all those views remove,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The jealous God, when we profane his fires,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Those restless passions in revenge inspires;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Who seek in love for aught but love alone.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Should at my feet the world's great master fall,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No, make me mistress to the man I love;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If there be yet another name more free,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh happy state! when souls each other draw,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When love is liberty, and nature, law:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">All then is full, possessing, and possess'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No craving void left aching in the breast:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And once the lot of Abelard and me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The crime was common, common be the pain.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Those still at least are left thee to bestow.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">With other beauties charm my partial eyes,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Full in my view set all the bright abode,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And make my soul quit Abelard for God. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From the false world in early youth they fled,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And Paradise was open'd in the wild.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No weeping orphan saw his father's stores</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But such plain roofs as piety could raise,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And only vocal with the Maker's praise.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where awful arches make a noonday night,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And the dim windows shed a solemn light;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But now no face divine contentment wears,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(O pious fraud of am'rous charity!)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But why should I on others' pray'rs depend?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And all those tender names in one, thy love!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The dying gales that pant upon the trees,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No more these scenes my meditation aid,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Or lull to rest the visionary maid.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A death-like silence, and a dread repose:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And breathes a browner horror on the woods. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sad proof how well a lover can obey!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Confess'd within the slave of love and man.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sprung it from piety, or from despair?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I view my crime, but kindle at the view,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Of all affliction taught a lover yet,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How the dear object from the crime remove,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Or how distinguish penitence from love?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Unequal task! a passion to resign,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How often must it love, how often hate!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How often hope, despair, resent, regret,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Renounce my love, my life, myself — and you.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The world forgetting, by the world forgot.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Grace shines around her with serenest beams,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For her white virgins hymeneals sing,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And melts in visions of eternal day. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Far other dreams my erring soul employ,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Far other raptures, of unholy joy:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And stir within me every source of love.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I wake — no more I hear, no more I view,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I call aloud; it hears not what I say;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To dream once more I close my willing eyes;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alas, no more — methinks we wand'ring go</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And wake to all the griefs I left behind. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thy image steals between my God and me,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And swelling organs lift the rising soul,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Blot out each bright idea of the skies;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And faith, our early immortality!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And more than echoes talk along the walls.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But all is calm in this eternal sleep;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And smooth my passage to the realms of day;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Present the cross before my lifted eye,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It will be then no crime to gaze on me.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See from my cheek the transient roses fly!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See the last sparkle languish in my eye!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">O Death all-eloquent! you only prove</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">May one kind grave unite each hapless name,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And graft my love immortal on thy fame!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And drink the falling tears each other sheds;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Amid that scene if some relenting eye</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And sure, if fate some future bard shall join</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In sad similitude of griefs to mine,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And image charms he must behold no more;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Let him our sad, our tender story tell;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.</span>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-53549477727977613632007-09-19T21:46:00.000-03:002007-09-19T21:48:44.336-03:00Botella al marMario Benedetti<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">El mar un azar</span><br />Vicente Huidobro<br /><br />Pongo estos seis versos en mi botella al mar<br />con el secreto designio de que algún día<br />llegue a una playa casi desierta<br />y un niño la encuentre y la destape<br />y en lugar de versos extraiga piedritas<br />y socorros y alertas y caracoles.Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-67125658859946275382007-07-27T10:40:00.000-03:002007-10-07T10:43:53.574-03:00O Cavaleiro PobreAlexei Pushkin<br />Tradução de Olavo Bilac<br /><br />Ninguém soube quem era o Cavaleiro Pobre,<br />Que viveu solitário, e morreu sem falar:<br />Era simples e sóbrio, era valente e nobre,<br />E pálido como o luar.<br /><br />Antes de se entregar às fadigas da guerra<br />Dizem que um dia viu qualquer cousa do céu:<br />E achou tudo vazio... e pareceu-lhe a terra<br />Um vasto e inútil mausoléu.<br /><br />Desde então, uma atroz devoradora chama<br />Calcinou-lhe o desejo, e o reduziu a pó.<br />E nunca mais o Pobre olhou uma só dama,<br />– Nem uma só! nem uma só!<br /><br />Conservou, desde então, a viseira abaixada:<br />E, fiel à Visão, e ao seu amor fiel,<br />Trazia uma inscrição de três letras, gravada<br />A fogo e sangue no broquel.<br /><br />Foi aos prédios da Fé. Na Palestina, quando,<br />No ardor do seu guerreiro e piedoso mister,<br />Cada filho da Cruz se batia invocando<br />Um nome caro de mulher.<br /><br />Ele rouco, brandindo o pique no ar, clamava:<br />“Lumen coeli Regina!” e, ao clamor dessa voz,<br />Nas hostes dos incréus como uma tromba entrava,<br />Irresistível e feroz.<br /><br />Mil vezes sem morrer viu a morte de perto.<br />E negou-lhe o destino outra vida melhor:<br />Foi viver no deserto... E era imenso o deserto!<br />Mas o seu Sonho era maior!<br /><br />E um dia, a se estorcer, aos saltos, desgrenado,<br />Louco, velho, feroz – naquela solidão<br />Morreu: – mudo, rilhando os dentes devorado<br />Pelo seu próprio coração.<br /><br /><br />Alexei Pushkin nasceu em Moscou em 1799. Foi poeta, dramaturgo e narrador. Exerceu profunda influência sobre a literatura de sua época. Seu estilo é claro, simples e poderoso. Morreu em 1837.Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-74473457425752851332007-06-23T15:16:00.000-03:002007-10-07T10:44:20.870-03:00Consolojustificativa para a pobreza: "Chi ha fortuna in amor non giochi a carte".Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-4567453126024490952007-03-05T10:47:00.000-03:002007-03-05T10:50:12.242-03:00Há Palavras Que Nos BeijamAlexandre O'Neill<br /><br /><br /><em>Há palavras que nos beijam<br />Como se tivessem boca,<br />Palavras de amor, de esperança,<br />De imenso amor, de esperança louca.<br /> <br />Palavras nuas que beijas<br />Quando a noite perde o rosto,<br />Palavras que se recusam<br />Aos muros do teu desgosto.<br /> <br />De repente coloridas<br />Entre palavras sem cor,<br />Esperadas, inesperadas<br />Como a poesia ou o amor.<br /> <br />(O nome de quem se ama<br />Letra a letra revelado<br />No mármore distraído,<br />No papel abandonado)<br /> <br />Palavras que nos transportam<br />Aonde a noite é mais forte,<br />Ao silêncio dos amantes </em>Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640825.post-47719633260727017482007-02-09T10:05:00.000-02:002007-10-07T10:45:33.789-03:00A bela de Amherst (trecho)Emily Dickinson<br /><br />Noites Loucas – Noites Loucas!<br />Estivesse eu contigo Noites<br />Loucas seriam<br />Nosso luxuoso abrigo!<br /><br />Para Coração em porto –<br />Ventos – são coisas fúteis –<br />Bússolas – dispensáveis –<br />Portulanos – inúteis!<br /><br />Navegando em pleno Éden –<br />Ah, o Mar!<br />Quem dera – esta Noite – em Ti<br />Ancorar!Marcoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03006206985804609610noreply@blogger.com0