CAMOES, Luis Vaz de
so I feel, all the more, my present evil;
let me live contentedly, if you will –
don’t leave me to die on such terms
I must live, as is obvious, in discontent,
good comes, if it comes, by accident,
while dearth brings my sorrows to an end.
canceling images from the memory
for the damage they do to one’s reason.
hope drag in its wake its own glory,
en dieper voelen doet hoe ik verstarde:
geef mij een leven dat ik wèl kan harden,
laat mij niet afsterven in deze staat.
doe dan in deze ellende énkele flarden
geluk verdwalen om de zeer benarde
voordat de dood hem uit zijn lijden slaat.
zolang herinneringen blijven boren
en schade doen en nooit zijn uitgewoed.
die ook de laatste hoop heeft opgegeven
en levenslang ontredderd blijven moet?
Whoever, Lady, sees plain and clear
the lovely essence of your fair eyes
and doesn't from seeing them go blind
hasn't paid your looks their due.
. Since it gives me so much bliss
to give you everything I can
The more I pay you, the more I owe.
Little by little it ebbs, this life,
if by any chance I am still alive;
my brief time passes before my eyes.
I mourn the past in whatever I say;
as each day passes, step by step
my youth deserts me—what persists is pain.
When I behold you, Lady! when my eyes
Dwell on the deep enjoyment of your sight,
I give my spirit to that one delight,
And earth appears to me a Paradise.
And when I hear you speak, and see you smile,
Full satisfied, absorb'd, my centr'd mind
Deems all the world's vain hopes and joys the while
As empty as the unsubstantial wind.
Lady! I feel your charms, yet dare not raise
To that high theme the unequal song of praise,-
A power for that to language was not given;
Nor marvel I, when I those beauties view,
Lady! that He, whose power created you,
Could form the stars and yonder glorious heaven.
Corydon and Tityrus
Beneath a green and lofty oak reclined,
Corydon o'er the scale his finger threw
In ivy's shade, whose clinging tendrils grew
Among the trees, and round the branches twined.
Of Amaryllis, nymph for whom he pined,
He sang the loves, love's moving power he knew;
The birds among the branches listening flew,
And lower down did stream of crystal wind.
To him comes Tityrus, who idly roved,
Driving his meagre cattle o'er the plain;
Tityrus was friend of Corydon best loved.
He tells him all his torment and his pain;
By other's speech the embittered is not moved.
Nor grief makes sorrowful the heart that's fain.
pijnen aanvoelen als een leniging.
en onvoldaan zijn in bevrediging,
wegteren aan een verholen kwetsuur,
en eenzaam gaan tussen de velen in,
zich onverzadigbaar verspelen in
een roekeloos duizelend avontuur,
aan de genade van een overwonnen
alleseisende die ons leven breekt.
mensen maken die zo verschillend zijn,
waar ze zichzelf al zo fel tegenspreekt?
I spoke, when rising through the darkened air,
Appalled, we saw a hideous phantom glare;
High and enormous over the flood he towered,
And thwart our way with sullen aspect lowered.
An earthy paleness over his cheeks was spread,
Erect uprose his hairs of withered red;
Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose,
Sharp and disjoined, his gnashing teeth's blue rows;
His haggard beard flowed quivering on the wind,
Revenge and horror in his mien combined;
His clouded front, by withering lightnings scared,
The inward anguish of his soul declared.
His red eyes, glowing from their dusky caves,
Shot livid fires: far echoing over the waves
His voice resounded, as the caverned shore
With hollow groan repeats the tempest's roar.
Cold gliding horrors thrilled each hero's breast,
Our bristling hair and tottering knees confessed
Wild dread, the while with visage ghastly wan,
His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began...