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William Blake – Poema Traduzido

Camisetas Amo Poesia

William Blake – Poema Traduzido

Ver todo um Mundo num grão
E um Céu em ramo que enflora
É ter o Infinito na palma da mão
E a Eternidade numa hora.

Um tordo rubro engaiolado
Deixa o Céu inteiro irado…
Um cão com dono e esfaimado
Prediz a ruína do estado…
Ao grito da lebre caçada
Da mente, uma fibra é arrancada
Ferida na asa a cotovia,
Um querubim, seu canto silencia…
A cada uivo de lobo e de leão
Uma alma humana encontra a redenção.
O gamo selvagem acalma,
A errar por aí, a nossa alma.
Se gera discórdia o judiado cordeiro,
Perdoa a faca do açougueiro…
A verdade com mau intuito
Supera a mentira de muito.
É justo que assim deva ser:
É do homem a dor e o prazer;
Depois que isso aprendemos a fundo,
Seguros podemos sair pelo mundo…
O inquiridor, que astuto se posta,
Jamais saberá a resposta…
O grito do grilo ou uma charada
À dúvida dão resposta adequada…
Quem duvida daquilo que vê
Jamais crerá, sem como e porquê.
Se duvidassem, sol e lua
Apagariam a luz sua.
Soltar tua ira pode ser um bem,
Mas bem nenhum quando a ira te retém…
Toda manhã e todo entardecer
Alguém para a miséria está a nascer.
Em toda tarde e toda manhã linda
Uns nascem para o doce gozo ainda.
Uns nascem para o doce gozo ainda.
Outros nascem numa noite infinda.
Passamos na mentira a acreditar
Quando não vemos através do olhar,
Que uma noite nos traz e outra deduz
Quando a alma dorme mergulhada em luz.
Deus aparece e Deus é luz amada
Para almas que na noite têm morada,
Mas com a forma humana se anuncia
Para as que vivem nas regiões do dia.

(William Blake - De “Augúrios da Inocência” – trecho – os cortes no texto são indicados por reticências e as estrofes foram eliminadas)
(William Blake: prosa e poesia selecionadas. Seleção, tradução e notas de Paulo Vizioli. São Paulo: Nova Alexandria, 1993. ps.76 a 79 – Corrigindo “açogueiro” – Agradeço ao amigo, leitor e poeta Nilton Maia pelo livro de presente, que possibilitou a primeira publicação em Português deste poema com referência bibliográfica.)

(Texto original em Inglês – trecho acima)

To see a  World in a grain of sand
And a Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all Heaven in a rage…
A dog starv´d at his master´s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state…
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing…
Every wolf’s and lion’s howl
Raises from Hell a human soul.
The wild deer, wandering here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus’d breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher’s knife…
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go…
The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply…
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They’d immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you…
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro’ the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appear & God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

(William Blake - De “Augúrios da Inocência” – trecho – os cortes no texto são indicados por reticências e as estrofes foram eliminadas)
(William Blake: prosa e poesia selecionadas. Seleção, tradução e notas de Paulo Vizioli. São Paulo: Nova Alexandria, 1993. ps.76 a 79)

(Texto original completo e com estrofes)

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill’d with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm’d for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf’s and lion’s howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand’ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus’d breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher’s knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won’t believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever’s fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov’d by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by woman lov’d.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider’s enmity.
He who torments the chafer’s sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother’s grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar’s dog and widow’s cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer’s song
Poison gets from slander’s tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy’s foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist’s jealousy.

The prince’s robes and beggar’s rags
Are toadstools on the miser’s bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,
And return’d to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven’s shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar’s rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm’d with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer’s sun.
The poor man’s farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric’s shore.

One mite wrung from the lab’rer’s hands
Shall buy and sell the miser’s lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant’s faith
Shall be mock’d in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne’er get out.

He who respects the infant’s faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child’s toys and the old man’s reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour’s iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket’s cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet’s inch and eagle’s mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They’d immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation’s fate.
The harlot’s cry from street to street
Shall weave old England’s winding-sheet.

The winner’s shout, the loser’s curse,
Dance before dead England’s hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro’ the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

(William Blake – fonte: Wikipedia)

William-Blake

Camisetas Amo Poesia

Saiba mais obre o autor:

William Blake – Wikipedia

Leia mais poemas de grandes poetas

Camisetas Amo Poesia

Fabio Rocha

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Poeta nascido no Rio de Janeiro em 1976. Considerado um dos poetas brasileiros mais representativos da década de 2000, é autor de vários livros publicados gratuitamente em seu blog, cujos melhores poemas foram reunidos em Corte (Ibis Libris, 2004) e rio raso (Patuá, 2014). Mantém o bem sucedido site “A Magia da Poesia”, onde divulga a obra de grandes poetas. Seus poemas já foram selecionados para livros escolares, traduzidos para o russo, publicados em diversas revistas literárias, bem como na antologia Roteiro da Poesia Brasileira (Global, 2009). (saiba +)


6 Respostas

  1. Da obra "O Matrimônio do Céu e do Inferno".

  2. Caro Amigo Poeta, Uma grata surpresa receber teu post com o poema de Blake, um dos maiores poetas de língua inglesa e ainda não muito conhecido no Brasil. Assim, e mais uma vez, teu ótimo blog, seguido por muitos, assume o papel de importante instrumento na divulgação da "Arte dos Versos". Agradeço, ainda, pela mensagem carinhosa. Um grande abraço, Nilton Maia

  3. Vivianne Oliveira Costa

    adorei muito as poesias dele mas ele é meio contraditório não?

  4. RT @fabiorochapoeta: William Blake – Poemas Traduzidos: Ver um Mundo num Grão de Areia E um Céu numa flor… http://t.co/5HYevpKa

  5. Stella

    o “Infinito na palma da mão” é fantástico…
    A eternidade numa hora é o tempo q passamos juntos, é a conversa boa, os momentos que não queria estar em outro lugar…
    bjos eternos

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