ESTE PÃO QUE EU PARTO
Este pão que eu parto já foi aveia,
este vinho por árvore alheia
tomou os frutos dela;
O homem de dia e de noite o vento
mutilam as espigas e cortam o júbilo às uvas
Na vida deste vinho os sucos do verão
ensanguentaram-se na carne, crosta, da vide;
Na vida deste pão
a aveia ao vento encheu-se de graça;`
E o homem prostrou o vento e golpeou o sol.
Esta carne que desmanchas, este sangue que sangras
e o vazio nas veias que deixas,
foram aveia e uva
nascida de raiz tumescida e seiva;
O meu vinho sorves, o meu pão mordes.
Dylan Thomas
THIS BREAD I BREAK
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.
Once in this time wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.
Once in this time wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.
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