Peregrinacultural's Weblog

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.