sábado, 21 de novembro de 2009

Lord Byron viveu toda a sua como um heterosexual, pelo menos esforçava-se por parecer que o era – contrariava a sua natureza. Nos seus últimos dias de vida caiu de amores por um jovem, um grego de quinze anos, e a quem escreveu este poema. Louco de amor, o seu sentimento não era correspondido. E sofria. Morreu apaixonado, o poeta Byron.


I watched thee when the foe was at our side -
Ready to strike at him, – or thee and me –
Were safety hopeless – rather than divide
Aught with one loved – save love and liberty.

I watched thee in the breakers – when the rock
Received our prow – and all was storm and fear
And bade thee cling to me through every shock –
This arm would be thy bark – or breast thy bier.

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes –
Yielding my couch – and stretched me on the ground -
When overworn with watching – ne'er to rise
From thence – if thou an early grave hadst found.

The Earthquake came and rocked the quivering wall –
And men and Nature reeled as if with wine –
Whom did I seek around the tottering Hall –
For thee – whose safety first provide for – thine.

And when convulsive throes denied my breath
The faintest utterance to my fading thought -
To thee -to thee - even in the grasp of death
My spirit turned – Ah! oftener than it ought.

Thus much and more – and yet thou lov'st me not,
And never wilt – Love dwells not in our will –
Nor can I blame thee – though it be my lot
To strongly – wrongly – vainly – love thee still.

Imagem: Goodyear excellence, Jean Louis Grig

2 comentários:

Jonas disse...

Cá para mim andas a preparar o pessoal para quando confessares a coisa am I right ou am I right?
Vê se atinas, meu :|

Virgílio Brandão disse...

Moi, Jonas? LoL
Essa foi a piada do ano... há muito que não me ria tanto sozinho!

Isso é mesmo boca de peixe! LoL