A keresés eredménye oldal 3

Portuguese sea

Oh salinated sea, how much of your salt
Are the tears of Portugal!
When we cross over you, how many mothers cry,
How many children pray in vain!
How many fiancées wait to marry
Why are you ours, oh sea!
 
Is it worth it? Everything is worth the effort
If the soul isn't small.
Who wants to pass beyond Bojador
Must first pass beyond the suffering.
God gave to the sea danger and the abyss,
But in it lies what the sky mirrored.
 

Ogdr13 - Light, light, very light

Versions: #1#2
Light, light, very light,
A very light wind passes,
And goes away, always very light.
And I don't know what I think
Nor do I seek to know it.
 

Ogdr01 - I never kept herds

I never kept herds,
But it is as if I have kept them.
My soul is like that of a shepherd,
It knows the wind and the Sun
And goes hand in hand with the Seasons
To follow and to see.
All the peace of Nature without people
Comes to sit itself beside me.
But I remain sad like a sunset
For our imagination,
When it grows cold in the depths of the plain
And it feels as if the night entered
As a butterfly does through the window.
 
But my sorrow is quiet
Because it is natural and just
And it is what should be inside the soul
When it already thinks that it exists
And the hands pick flowers without even thinking of it.
 
Like the sound of cowbells
From beyond the curve of the road,
My thoughts are content.
I only have the pity of knowing that they are content,
Because, if I didn't know,
Instead of being content and sad,
They would be joyful and content.
To think discomforts like going through the rain
When the wind grows and it appears that it rains even more.
 
I don't have any ambitions or desires.
To be a poet is not one of my ambitions.
It's my way of being alone.
 
And if desire at times,
To imagine, being a little lamb
(Or being the whole herd
To go scattered throughout all the hillside
To be many happy things all at once),
It's only because I feel what I write during sunset
Or when a cloud passes it's hand over the light
And runs a silence through the herbage outside.
 
When I sit down to write verses
Or, ambling through the roads or through the footpaths,
I write verses on a paper that is within my thought,
I feel a staff in my hands
And I see a profile of me
Atop a hill,
Looking out at my herd and seeing my ideas
Or looking at my ideas and seeing my herd,
And smiling vaguely like who doesn't understand what is said
And wants to pretend that they understand.
 
I greet all that read me,
Throwing my large hat to them
When they see me at my door
The diligence barely rises above the hill.
I greet them and wish them Sun,
And rain, when rain is necessary,
And that their houses have
At the foot of an open window
A favorite chair
Where they sit, reading my verses.
And upon reading my verses they think
That I am any natural thing -
For example, the ancient tree
Where children sat down with a thump
In the shade when tired of play
And wiped the sweat from their hot foreheads
With the sleeve of a striped pinafore.
 

Ogdr19 - The moonlight beats on the turf

The moonlight beats on the turf
I don't know what it reminds me of . . .
It reminds me of the voice of the old maid
Telling me tales of pixies.
And of how Our Lady dressed up as a beggar
Went by night in the streets
Rescuing the mistreated children . . .
 
If I can no longer believe that that is the truth
Then why does the moonlight beat on the turf?
 

Ogdr17 - In my meadow what a mixture of Nature!

In my meadow what a mixture of Nature!
My sisters the plants,
My companions of the fountains, the holy ones
To whom nobody prays . . .
 
And they are cut and come to our table
And in the hotels the noisy guests,
That arrive with belts holding blankets
Ask for 'Salad', carelessly . . .
Without thinking of what they demand from the Mother Earth
Her freshness and first children,
The first green words that she has,
The first living and iridescent things
That Noel saw
When the waters descended and the peak of the mountains
Green and waterlogged surged upwards
And in the air through where the dove appeared
The rainbow faded away . . .
 

From our resemblance with the gods

From our resemblance with the gods
For our own sake let us cease
Judging ourselves exiled divinities
And possessing Life
For a primitive authority
And the agemate1 of Jove.
 
Haughtily masters of ourselves
We use existence
Like the villa that the gods concede to us
To forget the Summer.
 
In any other more vexed manner
It isn't worth the effort we use
Indecisive and affluent existence
Fatal of the dark river.
 
Like how atop the gods Destiny
Is calm and inexorable,
Atop us we construct
A voluntary fate
That when it oppresses us we are
The very thing that oppresses us,
And when we enter through the night inside
through our foot we enter.
 

• 1. person of the same age

Ogdr11 - That lady has a piano

That lady has a piano
That is pleasant but it is not the running of the rivers
Nor the murmur that the trees make . . .
 
Why is a piano necessary?
The best is to have ears
And to love Nature.
 

Ogdr23 - My gaze is blue like the sky

My gaze is blue like the sky
It is peaceful like water in the Sun.
It's that way, blue and tranquil,
Because it doesn't interrogate or shock . . .
 
If I interrogated or shocked myself
New flowers wouldn't be born in the meadows
And nothing would change in the Sun in any way to become more beautiful . . .
(Even if new flowers were to be born in the meadow
And if the Sun changed to be more beautiful,
I would feel less flowers in the meadow
And would believe the Sun to be more ugly . . .
Because everything that is is as it is,
And I accept, and I am not even thankful,
For not appearing like I think about that . . . )
 

The sensible people

The sensible people aren't capable
Of killing chickens
Yet they are capable
Of eating chickens
 
The money smells of poverty and it smells
Of clothes of their body
That clothes
That after the rain dried upon the skin
Because they didn't have another
The money smells of poverty and it smells
Of clothes
That after the sweat wasn't washed
Because they didn't have another
 
'You'll win the bread with the sweat on your face'
Thusly it was imposed on us
And not:
'With the sweat of others you will win the bread.'
 
Oh salesmen of the temple
Oh builders
Of the great massive and weighty statues
Oh full of devotion and of approval
 
Forgive them Lord
Because they know what they do.
 

Someone Like Me

I want someone like me
Who will take me as I am
That needs affection and love
I want someone like me
Who will learn how to listen to me
That understands what my eyes say
That doesn't stay without a reason
I want someone who wants to travel in the sunset
Who will light in my sky all the stars of pleasure
 
I just want someone to follow me
To cry and smile wherever I go
Someone who doesn't like to lie, that doesn't even know how to pretend
Who really cares for me when I give in
 
But I just want someone to follow me
To cry and smile wherever I go
Someone who doesn't like to lie, that doesn't even know how to pretend
Who really cares for me when I give in
And say that this is love
 
I want someone like me
Someone who doesn't want to be right
And only try to have happiness in the heart
I want someone like me
Someone who will hug me when I come
Who will call me, eager to love me
A friend to rely on
Someone with whom I can share loneliness
But that doesn't pass all the time talking about the relation
 
I just want someone to follow me
To cry and smile wherever I go
Someone who doesn't like to lie, that doesn't even know how to pretend
Who really cares for me when I give in
 
But I just want someone to follow me
To cry and smile wherever I go
Someone who doesn't like to lie, that doesn't even know how to pretend
Who really cares for me when I give in
And say that this is love
 
Translation done by Alma Barroca. In case you want to reprint it, please ask for permission first and always cite my name as its author. /
Tradução feita por Alma Barroca. Caso você queira reutilizá-la, por favor peça por permissão antes e sempre cite meu nome como o do autor.