Poem
Teixeira de Pascoaes
IDYLL
As the night above meKeeps on growing,
Closer and more real
Is your apparition. . .
Your shadowy eyes
On an ivory face,
Your voice like a prayerful murmur. . .
O Virgin of Sadness,
I hear your steps. . . I see,
Imprinted on my soul,
The outline of your feet. . .
You come from afar. . . Here
You come, smiling, to kiss me
With lips that have turned to dust.
That ghostly touch
Of your amorous Shadow
Plunges me into silence
And an ashen pallor. . .
And my life sinks,
Ecstatic and overwhelmed,
Into a gloomy abyss of love.
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith
Idílio
Idílio
Conforme vai crescendoA noite sobre mim,
Mais próxima e real
É a tua aparição. . .
Os teus olhos de sombra
Em rosto de marfim,
Tua voz, num murmúrio de oração.
Ó virgem da Tristeza,
Ouço-te os passos. . . Vejo
Impresso, na minh’alma,
O talhe dos teus pés. . .
Vens, de longe. . . Lá vens,
Sorrindo, dar-me um beijo,
Com uns lábios que a terra já desfez.
Teu contacto espectral
De Sombra enamorada
Afoga-me em silêncio
E lívido palor. . .
E a minha vida fica,
Extática e abismada,
Numa fundura lúgubre de amor.
© 1899, Teixeira de Pascoaes
From: Terra Proibida
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
From: Terra Proibida
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of Teixeira de Pascoaes
Close
IDYLL
As the night above meKeeps on growing,
Closer and more real
Is your apparition. . .
Your shadowy eyes
On an ivory face,
Your voice like a prayerful murmur. . .
O Virgin of Sadness,
I hear your steps. . . I see,
Imprinted on my soul,
The outline of your feet. . .
You come from afar. . . Here
You come, smiling, to kiss me
With lips that have turned to dust.
That ghostly touch
Of your amorous Shadow
Plunges me into silence
And an ashen pallor. . .
And my life sinks,
Ecstatic and overwhelmed,
Into a gloomy abyss of love.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
From: Terra Proibida
From: Terra Proibida
IDYLL
As the night above meKeeps on growing,
Closer and more real
Is your apparition. . .
Your shadowy eyes
On an ivory face,
Your voice like a prayerful murmur. . .
O Virgin of Sadness,
I hear your steps. . . I see,
Imprinted on my soul,
The outline of your feet. . .
You come from afar. . . Here
You come, smiling, to kiss me
With lips that have turned to dust.
That ghostly touch
Of your amorous Shadow
Plunges me into silence
And an ashen pallor. . .
And my life sinks,
Ecstatic and overwhelmed,
Into a gloomy abyss of love.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
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