quarta-feira, 4 de janeiro de 2012

Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse, Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet



À une passante

La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.
Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,
Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse
Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet;

Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.
Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,
Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l'ouragan,
La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.


Un éclair... puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté 
Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,
Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité?

Ailleurs, bien loin d'ici! trop tard! jamais peut-être!
Car j'ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,
Ô toi que j'eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais!



— Charles Baudelaire, "Fleurs du Mal"

A uma passante

A rua ensurdecedora urrava ao meu redor
Alta e esbelta, toda de luto, majestosa na dor,
Uma mulher passou, a mão vaidosa
Erguendo, balançando a bainha e o festão.

Ágil e nobre, com pernas de estátua.
Eu, crispado como um extravagante, bebia
No seu olho, lívido céu que gera o furacão,
A doçura que fascina e o prazer que mata.



Um clarão... e a noite depois! - Fugidia beleza,
De olhar que me fez renascer,
Será que só te verei de novo na eternidade?

Tão longe daqui! Tão tarde! Talvez nunca!
Pois ignoro para onde vais e não sabes para onde vou.
Ó tu que eu teria amado, ó tu que sabias disso.



To a Passer-By

The street about me roared with a deafening sound.
Tall, slender, in heavy mourning, majestic grief,
A woman passed, with a glittering hand
Raising, swinging the hem and flounces of her skirt;

Agile and graceful, her leg was like a statue's.
Tense as in a delirium, I drank
From her eyes, pale sky where tempests germinate,
The sweetness that enthralls and the pleasure that kills.



A lightning flash... then night! Fleeting beauty
By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,
Will I see you no more before eternity?



Elsewhere, far, far from here! too late! never perhaps!
For I know not where you fled, you know not where I go,
O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)





A Passer-by

The deafening street roared on. Full, slim, and grand
In mourning and majestic grief, passed down
A woman, lifting with a stately hand
And swaying the black borders of her gown;



Noble and swift, her leg with statues matching;
I drank, convulsed, out of her pensive eye,
A livid sky where hurricanes were hatching,
Sweetness that charms, and joy that makes one die.


A lighting-flash — then darkness! Fleeting chance 
Whose look was my rebirth — a single glance!
Through endless time shall I not meet with you?
Far off! too late! or never! — I not knowing




Who you may be, nor you where I am going — 
You, whom I might have loved, who know it too!

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

To a Woman Passing By

The deafening road around me roared.
Tall, slim, in deep mourning, making majestic grief,
A woman passed, lifting and swinging
With a pompous gesture the ornamental hem of her garment,
Swift and noble, with statuesque limb.




As for me, I drank, twitching like an old roué,
From her eye, livid sky where the hurricane is born,
The softness that fascinates and the pleasure that kills,


A gleam... then night! O fleeting beauty, 
Your glance has given me sudden rebirth,
Shall I see you again only in eternity?
Somewhere else, very far from here! Too late! Perhaps never!





For I do not know where you flee, nor you where I am going,
O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

— Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974)







Sie ist ein Modell und sie sieht gut aus
Ich nehme sie heut' gerne mit zu mir nach Haus
Sie wirkt so kuehl, and sie kommt niemand 'ran
Doch vor der Kamera da zeigt sie was sie kann



Sie trinkt im Nachtklub immer Sekt (korrekt)
Und hat hier alle Maenner abgecheckt
Im Scheinwerferlicht ihr junges Laecheln strahlt
Sie sieht gut aus und Schoenheit wird bezahlt


Sie stellt sich zu Schau fuer das Konsumprodukt
Und wird von millionen Augen angeguckt
Ihr neues Titelbild ist einfach Fabelhaft
Ich muss sie wiedersehen, ich weiss sie hat's geschaft.



The Model

She's a model and she's looking good
I'd like to take her to my place
She's working coolly, she won't be touched by anyone
Though, before the camera she shows what she can do


In the night club she's drinking only Champagne
And has checked out every man
In the floodlight her young smiles glitter
She's looking good, and beauty will be paid

She exposes herself for consumer products
And is being seen by millions of eyes
Her new cover is simply gorgeous
I must see her again, I know she's made it.


2 comentários:

  1. muito bom. parabéns, Galisi. imagens e ideias que viajam, de passagem, de Baudelaire a Kraftwerk. o poeta de "As flores do mal" também iria aplaudir, por certo. abração para você, meu caro.

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  2. quantas referências...vc é estereofônico, flex ou como eles falam la na eubiose a nova geração de gente q nasceu com mente bimânica, acho q vc ja deve ser uma mutação mais moderna. +sofisticado. revendo...

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