quarta-feira, 11 de novembro de 2009

O Homem e o Mar

Homem livre, o oceano é um espelho fulgente
Que tu sempre hás-de amar. No seu dorso agitado,
Como em puro cristal, contemplas, retratado,
Teu íntimo sentir, teu coração ardente.

Gostas de te banhar na tua própria imagem.
Dás-lhe beijo até, e, às vezes, teus gemidos
Nem sentes, ao escutar os gritos doloridos,
As queixas que ele diz em mística linguagem.

Vós sois, ambos os dois, discretos tenebrosos;
Homem, ninguém sondou teus negros paroxismos,
Ó mar, ninguém conhece os teus fundos abismos;
Os segredos guardais, avaros, receosos!

E há séculos mil, séc'ulos inumeráveis,
Que os dois vos combateis n'uma luta selvagem,
De tal modo gostais n'uma luta selvagem,
Eternos lutador's ó irmãos implacáveis!

Charles Baudelaire, in "As Flores do Mal"
Tradução de Delfim Guimarães

5 comentários:

Anónimo disse...

He always thought of the sea as la mar which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, those who used buoys as floats for their lines and had motor-boats, bought when the shark livers had brought much money, spoke of her as el mar which is masculine. They spoke of her as a contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours, and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could hot help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought.

Ernest Hemingway, in "The Old Man and the Sea"

Unknown Soldier disse...

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

Carl Jung

Aboard at a Ship’s Helm

ABOARD, at a ship’s helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.

A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, rock’d by the waves.

O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing, 5
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.

For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell’s admonition,
The bows turn,—the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds away gaily and safe.

But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10
O ship of the body—ship of the soul—voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.

Walt Whitman (1819–1892)

Anónimo disse...


Excellent quote: it has everything to do with it...!!

Thanks for the poem.

Unknown Soldier disse...

You´re Welcome...and the poem was a small gift for you...you deserve it...you always deserve special care.

Anónimo disse...

You deserve it more!!!

WHO AM I ???

A minha foto
Wait until the war is over And we're both a little older The unknown soldier