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  • A poem of mine, in English and in Portuguese (latter original). Today was our National Day of Poetry!

    (Photo by Terese Hart - National Geographic Site)


    Beneath the arch of Heaven
    who will remember my memories?
    Who will handle the chisel
    to tear the mountains
    roads, notorious exploits?

    From the borders of Asia to the setting sun,
    from Hannibal to Napoleon,
    under the rain and the increasing moon,
    which general will I call "brother"?

    Unfortunate, finally,
    at the sound of my trunk,
    an architect of the war makes game
    of his rival, and also of me

    Alone! - as lonely is the end
    even where the glory echoes,
    even if precedes myself
    my the crown of my ivory heart.


    Abaixo do arco do céu,
    quem lembrará minhas memórias?
    Quem manejará o cinzel,
    a rasgar nos montes
    caminhos, façanhas notórias?

    Nas fronteiras, da Ásia ao poente,
    de Aníbal a Napoleão,
    sob a chuva e a lua crescente,
    a que general chamarei "irmão"?

    Desafortunado, enfim,
    ao som da minha tromba,
    um artífice da guerra zomba
    de seu rival, e também de mim

    Só, como só é o fim,
    mesmo onde a glória ecoa,
    ainda que me preceda a coroa
    do meu coração de marfim.
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