Poem
Teixeira de Pascoaes
ENCOUNTER
My living encounter with the humbleThings of Nature gives birth to souls,
Divine apparitions,
Which abstractly behold me from I don’t know where,
From I don’t know what unfamiliar place
Outside this space
In which trees and rocks appear.
I see specters, images of Mystery,
Fantastical figures,
Glowing outlines imprinted on the dusk,
Like so many omens. . .
Outlines of pallor emerging in the distance,
And sorrows that are fading portraits
Of unknown Divinities. . .
Statues of silence and melancholy
In the solitude of the hills. . .
Sphinxian postures in the desert,
The shadows of the Pyramids in the sun,
And Plato dragging his tunic of light
Among Egypt’s sad and solemn priests
Wearing vestments of dust and dead penumbras,
In temples of moonlight and petrified clouds. . .
I see before me fantastical presences,
Dreamed horizons that gird me
In a painful embrace! Dark birds that alight
On my brow, where night has fallen,
And winds that carry me through
Mists and lightning. . .
Already lost and dead, I’m no more
Than a human appearance,
Floating over the waves of emotion
That surge inside me like blood
From an open wound. . .
And I ride the waves, which spread
Over shores of snow and white foam,
In blue distances of endless clarity,
And in the nocturnal vagueness where stars
Emerge, like smiles of the devil. . .
I float on a lofty dream,
In heights of mystic splendor,
Where the white lily of moonlight opens.
I float on a lofty dream, in which I see
Myself as an indefinite being. . . The vast night,
Spreading over me its black wings,
Cannot hide me. My face,
Risen above the darkness,
Contemplates the divine Moon.
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith
Encontro
Encontro
Do meu encontro vivo com as cousasHumildes da Natura, nascem almas,
Aparições divinas,
Que, abstractas, me contemplam, não sei donde,
Não sei de que lugar desconhecido
E fora deste espaço em que aparecem
As árvores e os penedos.
Vejo espectros, imagens do Mistério,
Quiméricas figuras,
Perfis de lume impressos no crepúsculo,
Como sinais de agoiro. . .
Perfis de palidez alvorecendo ao longe,
E tristezas que são retratos esvaídos,
De ignotas Divindades. . .
Estátuas do silêncio e da melancolia,
Na solidão dos montes. . .
Atitudes da Esfinge no deserto,
A sombra das Pirâmides ao sol,
E Platão arrastando a túnica de luz,
Entre os padres do Egipto, hieráticos e tristes,
Vestidos de poeira e de penumbras mortas,
Nos templos de luar e empedernidas nuvens. . .
Vejo, diante de mim, quiméricas presenças,
Horizontes de sonho que me cingem
Num doloroso abraço! Escuras aves
Que me pousam na fronte anoitecida,
E ventos que me levam através
De névoas e relâmpagos. . .
E, já perdido e morto, não sou mais
Que uma aparência humana,
Boiando sobre as ondas da emoção
Que brotam, cá de dentro, como sangue
Duma ferida aberta. . .
E vou à flor das ondas que se espraiam
Em litorais de neve e branca espuma,
Em distâncias azuis de claridade infinda,
E no vago nocturno em que as estrelas
Afloram, como risos do demónio. . .
Flutuo num sonho aéreo,
Em alturas de místico esplendor,
Onde abre o lírio branco do luar.
Flutuo num sonho aéreo, em que me vejo
Um ser indefinido. . . A noite imensa,
Que estende sobre mim as negras asas,
Não me pode esconder. A minha face,
Erguida para além da escuridão,
Contempla a Luz divina./pre>
© 1925, Teixeira de Pascoaes
From: Cânticos
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
From: Cânticos
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of Teixeira de Pascoaes
Close
ENCOUNTER
My living encounter with the humbleThings of Nature gives birth to souls,
Divine apparitions,
Which abstractly behold me from I don’t know where,
From I don’t know what unfamiliar place
Outside this space
In which trees and rocks appear.
I see specters, images of Mystery,
Fantastical figures,
Glowing outlines imprinted on the dusk,
Like so many omens. . .
Outlines of pallor emerging in the distance,
And sorrows that are fading portraits
Of unknown Divinities. . .
Statues of silence and melancholy
In the solitude of the hills. . .
Sphinxian postures in the desert,
The shadows of the Pyramids in the sun,
And Plato dragging his tunic of light
Among Egypt’s sad and solemn priests
Wearing vestments of dust and dead penumbras,
In temples of moonlight and petrified clouds. . .
I see before me fantastical presences,
Dreamed horizons that gird me
In a painful embrace! Dark birds that alight
On my brow, where night has fallen,
And winds that carry me through
Mists and lightning. . .
Already lost and dead, I’m no more
Than a human appearance,
Floating over the waves of emotion
That surge inside me like blood
From an open wound. . .
And I ride the waves, which spread
Over shores of snow and white foam,
In blue distances of endless clarity,
And in the nocturnal vagueness where stars
Emerge, like smiles of the devil. . .
I float on a lofty dream,
In heights of mystic splendor,
Where the white lily of moonlight opens.
I float on a lofty dream, in which I see
Myself as an indefinite being. . . The vast night,
Spreading over me its black wings,
Cannot hide me. My face,
Risen above the darkness,
Contemplates the divine Moon.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
From: Cânticos
From: Cânticos
ENCOUNTER
My living encounter with the humbleThings of Nature gives birth to souls,
Divine apparitions,
Which abstractly behold me from I don’t know where,
From I don’t know what unfamiliar place
Outside this space
In which trees and rocks appear.
I see specters, images of Mystery,
Fantastical figures,
Glowing outlines imprinted on the dusk,
Like so many omens. . .
Outlines of pallor emerging in the distance,
And sorrows that are fading portraits
Of unknown Divinities. . .
Statues of silence and melancholy
In the solitude of the hills. . .
Sphinxian postures in the desert,
The shadows of the Pyramids in the sun,
And Plato dragging his tunic of light
Among Egypt’s sad and solemn priests
Wearing vestments of dust and dead penumbras,
In temples of moonlight and petrified clouds. . .
I see before me fantastical presences,
Dreamed horizons that gird me
In a painful embrace! Dark birds that alight
On my brow, where night has fallen,
And winds that carry me through
Mists and lightning. . .
Already lost and dead, I’m no more
Than a human appearance,
Floating over the waves of emotion
That surge inside me like blood
From an open wound. . .
And I ride the waves, which spread
Over shores of snow and white foam,
In blue distances of endless clarity,
And in the nocturnal vagueness where stars
Emerge, like smiles of the devil. . .
I float on a lofty dream,
In heights of mystic splendor,
Where the white lily of moonlight opens.
I float on a lofty dream, in which I see
Myself as an indefinite being. . . The vast night,
Spreading over me its black wings,
Cannot hide me. My face,
Risen above the darkness,
Contemplates the divine Moon.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
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