Lost and translation

Estes poemas fazem parte de um projecto que não concluí. Nunca me passou pela cabeça traduzi-los, muito menos publicá-los. As minhas inspirações, William Wordsworth e João Villalobos, haveriam de rir-se jocosamente e eu não suportaria semelhante humilhação.

I
Dare we go into the night? Tenderly beware.
To fight, I might step outside my shell.
But rather I linger in-between, than to cope the scope of hopelessness.

II
Mighty shiver the lovequake, by dawn's delight.
Bygone the sorrow must you send, as I kiss your babywords intertwine.
For such they are of mine.
Before I sleep, before I am.

III
Shed the tear, breathe the sorrow, for my pain has gone to morrow.
Everlasting heartache, this sounds of life to-be; slipping raindrop kisses, like you are to me.

IV
This sea longs for you, as I wave in the distance.
Tidy up ashore windy soul, for we've met before.
No arms, no rags, just a bare vessel with no oar.
Nor here.

V
I've lost my love to-day; and myself for good.
This weekend has no end; to begin with.
Will I have to stand up weak; to be without?
Time lapses thy fading glory.
This mourning memory, recoil your morning glimpse.

VI
Hell, I will fall if I have to.
If I have to follow you through.
And hide this wholehearted self, from your cold-hearted soul.
If by cowardly means, any blatant gesture may mend the end; I will fear no evil as I scare myself.

VII
Why read, what to write?
Get rid of me for a night.
Quiet restlessness, cried her.
"How wrong, to be right".
How come, not to fight?
And he sobbed, facing the child.