quinta-feira, 20 de maio de 2010

The suicide of Atzesivano, disciple of Budha

Irreproachbly Atzesivano
took up the knife, his soul
at that moment a white dove.
And as a star at night
glides from the sky's inmost sanctuary
or as an apple blossom falls in the gentle breeze,
so his spirit took wing from his breast.

Deaths like this are not wasted.
Because only those who love lufe
in its mystical first glory
can reap by themselves
the great harvest of their existence -
spent now - with a divine tranquility.

Angelos Sikelianos, Selected Poems, Edmund Keeley e Philip Sherrard (trad.), Denise Harvey, 1996

2 comentários:

  1. (love *life)

    Estou mesmo curioso para ler este Sikelianos.

  2. Por muito mal que isto soe vindo de uma mulher casada, eu amei-o perdidamente.