domingo, fevereiro 05, 2006
To a Lady
With The Poems of Camoëns
This votive pledge of fond esteem,
Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou’lt prize;
It sings of Love’s enchanting dream,
A theme we never can despise.
Who blames it but the envious fool,
The old and disappointed maid;
Or pupil of the prudish school,
In single sorrow doom’d to fade?
Then read, dear girl! with feeling read,
For thou wilt ne’er be one of those;
To thee in vain I shall not plead
In pity for the poet’s woes.
He was in sooth a genuine bard;
His was no faint, fictitious flame.
Like his, may love be thy reward,
But not thy hapless fate the same.
à(s) fevereiro 05, 2006
COVILHÃ Correndo pelo vale do alto Zêzere Já chegámos? O quê! Ainda não? Então vou dormir mais um bocadinho...