Festival de outono, 1915
Willard Leroy Metcalf (EUA, 1858-1925)
óleo sobre tela
“Lágrimas, inúteis lágrimas, não sei o que exprimem,
Lágrimas das profundezas de algum divino desalento
brotam no coração, e se acumulam nos olhos,
observando os radiantes campos do outono,
pensando nos dias que já se foram.“
Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), do poema conhecido como Tears, idle tears
Tradução: Ladyce West
-,-,-,
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
This poem is in the public domain.
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