27.12.06

 

Poemas favoritos V
Favorite poems V


Soneto

Johann Gottlieb Fichte
(Tradução de Paulo Cesar Souza)

O que empresta ao meu olhar esse vigor,
Que todos os senões lhe parecem pequenos
E as noites se transformam em sóis serenos,
Em vida a negação, em solidez o tremor?

O que, a confusa teia do tempo a transpor,
Conduz-me certeiro às fontes perenes
Do belo, do vero, de bondades e acenos,
E lá afunda, e aniquila, do meu empenho a dor?

Já sei. Desde que, no olho de Urânia, acesa
Em quietude, pude eu mesmo interiormente
A clara, fina, pura flama azul observar;

Desde então, tal visão me habita em profundeza
E é no meu ser - eterna, unicamente;
Vive no meu viver, olha no meu olhar.

O original:

Was meinem Auge diese Kraft gegeben,
Dass alle Misgestalt ihm ist zerronnen,
Dass ihm die Naechte werden heitre Sonnen,
Unordnung Ordnung, und Verwesung Leben?

Was durch der Zeit, des Raums verworr'nes Weben
Mich sicher leitet hin zum ew'gen Bronnen
Des schoenen, Wahren, Guten und den Wonnen,
Und drin vernichtend eintaucht all' mein Streben?

Das ist's. Seit in Urania's Aug', die tiefe
Sich selber klare, blaue, stille, reine
Lichtflamm', ich selber still hineingesehen;

Seitdem ruht dieses Aug' mir in der Tiefe
Und ist in meinem Seyn, - das ewig Eine,
Lebt mir im Leben, sieht in meinem Sehen.
***
The Sibyl's Prophecies - The Punic Curse

A hundred years of the Punic Curse
And Rome will be slave to a hairy man,
A hairy man that is scant of hair,
Every man's woman and each woman's man.
The steed that he rides shall have toes for hooves.
He shall die at the hand of his son, no son,
And not in the field of war.

The hairy one next to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He shall have hair in a generous mop.
He shall give Rome marble in place of clay
And fetter her fast with unseen chains,
And shall die at the hand of his wife, no wife,
To the gain of his son, no son.

The hairy third to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He shall be mud well mixed with blood,
A hairy man that is scant of hair.
He shall give Rome victories and defeat
And die to the gain of his son, no son -
A pillow shall be his sword.

The hairy fourth to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
A hairy man that is scant of hair,
He shall give Rome poisons and blasphemies
And die from a kick of his aged horse
That carried him as a child.

The hairy fifth to enslave the State,
To enslave the State, though against his will,
Shall be that idiot whom all despised.
He shall have hair in a generous mop.
He shall give Rome water and winter bread
And die at the hands of his wife, no wife,
To the gain of his son, no son.

The hairy sixth to enslave the State
Shall be son, no son, of this hairy last.
He shall give Rome fiddlers and fear and fire.
His hands shall be red with a parents blood.
No hairy seventh to him succeeds
And blood shall gush from his tomb.


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