Frases de Luís de Camões

Luís Vaz de Camões o Camoens fue un escritor y poeta portugués, generalmente considerado como uno de los mayores poetas en lengua portuguesa; también escribió algunos sonetos en castellano. Wikipedia  

✵ 1524 – 10. junio 1580
Luís de Camões Foto
Luís de Camões: 74   frases 4   Me gusta

Frases célebres de Luís de Camões

“El amor es fuego que quema sin ser visto.”

Sin fuentes
Soneto.

Luís de Camões: Frases en inglés

“Time changes, and our desires change. What we
believe—even what we are—is ever-
changing. The world is change, which forever
takes on new qualities.”

Selected Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition (2008), ed. William Baer, p. 70
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Mudam-se os tempos, mudam-se as vontades

“I was long ago undeceived that protesting
could bring redress. But whoever suffers
is bound to complain if the pain is great.
So I did! But the cry that could offer
relief is itself feeble and exhausted,
and it is not through weeping that pain abates.”

Já me desenganei que de queixar-me
não se alcança remédio; mas, quem pena,
forçado lhe é gritar, se a dor é grande.
Gritarei; mas é débil e pequena
a voz para poder desabafar-me,
porque nem com gritar a dor se abrande.
"Vinde cá, meu tão certo secretário", trans. by Landeg White in The Collected Lyric Poems of Luis de Camoes (2016), p. 297
Lyric poetry, Hymns (canções)

“Love is a fire that burns unseen”

Luís de Camões libro Rhythmas de Lvis de Camoes

Rimas, Sonnet 81 (as translated by Richard Zenith)<!-- http://portugal.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=8436-->

Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver
Contexto: Love is a fire that burns unseen,
A wound that aches yet isn't felt,
An always discontent contentment,
A pain that rages without hurting,A longing for nothing but to long,
A loneliness in the midst of people,
A never feeling pleased when pleased,
A passion that gains when lost in thought.It's being enslaved of your own free will;
It's counting your defeat a victory;
It's staying loyal to your killer.But if it's so self-contradictory,
How can Love, when Love chooses,
Bring human hearts into sympathy?

“O glory of commanding! O vain thirst
Of that same empty nothing we call fame!”

Stanzas 94–95 (tr. Richard Fanshawe); the Old Man of Restelo.
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto IV
Contexto: But an old man of venerable look
(Standing upon the shore amongst the crowds)
His eyes fixed upon us (on ship-board), shook
His head three times, overcast with sorrow's clouds:
And (straining his voice more, than well could brook
His aged lungs: it rattled in our shrouds)
Out of a science, practice did attest,
Let fly these words from an oraculous breast:O glory of commanding! O vain thirst
Of that same empty nothing we call fame!

“For, though in science much contained be,
In special cases practice more doth see.”

Stanza 152 (tr. Richard Fanshawe); the poet advising King Sebastian of Portugal, then eighteen years of age.
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto X
Contexto: Great Sir, let never the astonished Gall
The English, German, and Italian,
Have cause to say, the fainting Portugal
Could not advance the great work he began.
Let your advisers be experienced all,
Such as have seen the world, and studied man.
For, though in science much contained be,
In special cases practice more doth see.

“Go, gentle spirit! now supremely blest,
From scenes of pain and struggling virtue go:
From thy immortal seat of heavenly rest
Behold us lingering in a world of woe!”

(anonymous translation)
Meek spirit, who so early didst depart,
Thou art at rest in Heaven! I linger here,
And feed the lonely anguish of my heart;
Thinking of all that made existence dear.
(tr. Robert Southey)
My gentle spirit! thou who hast departed
So early, of this life in discontent,
Rest thou there ever, in Heaven's firmament,
While I live here on earth all broken-hearted.
tr. John James Aubertin, in Seventy Sonnets of Camoens (1881), p. 17
Dear gentle soul, you that departed
this life so soon and reluctantly,
rest in heaven eternally
while I remain here, broken-hearted.
tr. Langed White, in The Collected Lyric Poems of Luis de Camoes (2016), p. 357
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Alma Minha Gentil, que te Partiste

“Since it gives me so much bliss
to give you everything I can
The more I pay you, the more I owe.”

Quoted by Elizabeth Bishop in the dedication of Questions of Travel (1965) to Lota de Macedo Soares, her Brazilian lover.
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Quem vê, Senhora, claro e manifesto

“Better deserve them, and to go without;
Than have them undeserved”

Stanza 93, lines 5–8 (tr. Richard Fanshawe)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto IX
Contexto: For these vain honours, this false gold, give price
(Unless he have it in himself) to none,
Better deserve them, and to go without;
Than have them undeserved, without doubt.

“I spoke, when rising through the darkened air,
Appalled, we saw a hideous phantom glare”

Stanzas 39–40 (tr. William Julius Mickle); description of Adamastor, the "Spirit of the Cape".
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto V
Contexto: I spoke, when rising through the darkened air,
Appalled, we saw a hideous phantom glare;
High and enormous over the flood he towered,
And thwart our way with sullen aspect lowered.
An earthy paleness over his cheeks was spread,
Erect uprose his hairs of withered red;
Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose,
Sharp and disjoined, his gnashing teeth's blue rows;
His haggard beard flowed quivering on the wind,
Revenge and horror in his mien combined;
His clouded front, by withering lightnings scared,
The inward anguish of his soul declared.
His red eyes, glowing from their dusky caves,
Shot livid fires: far echoing over the waves
His voice resounded, as the caverned shore
With hollow groan repeats the tempest's roar.
Cold gliding horrors thrilled each hero's breast,
Our bristling hair and tottering knees confessed
Wild dread, the while with visage ghastly wan,
His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began...

“Now let the judging reader mark what rex
The idol gold (which all the world adoreth)
Plays both in poor and rich: by money's thurst
All laws and ties (divine, and human) burst.”

Veja agora o juízo curioso
Quanto no rico, assim como no pobre,
Pode o vil interesse e sede inimiga
Do dinheiro, que a tudo nos obriga.
Stanza 96, lines 5–8 (tr. Richard Fanshawe)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto VIII

“Right honest studies my career can show
with long experience blent as best beseems,
and genius here presented for thy view;—
gifts, that conjoined appertain to few.”

Nem me falta na vida honesto estudo,
Com longa experiência misturado,
Nem engenho, que aqui vereis presente,
Cousas que juntas se acham raramente.
Stanza 154, lines 5–8 (tr. Richard Francis Burton)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto X

“Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no more
Must to the seat of Jove triumphant soar.
Chilled by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.”

Nô mais, Musa, nô mais, que a Lira tenho
Destemperada e a voz enrouquecida,
E não do canto, mas de ver que venho
Cantar a gente surda e endurecida.
O favor com que mais se acende o engenho
Não no dá a pátria, não, que está metida
No gosto da cobiça e na rudeza
Dũa austera, apagada e vil tristeza.
Stanza 145 (tr. William Julius Mickle)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto X

“Ah! where shall weary man take sanctuary,
where live his little span of life secure?
and 'scape of Heaven serene th' indignant storms
that launch their thunders at us earthen worms?”

Onde pode acolher-se um fraco humano,
Onde terá segura a curta vida,
Que não se arme, e se indigne o Céu sereno
Contra um bicho da terra tão pequeno?
Stanza 106, lines 5–8 (tr. Richard Francis Burton)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto I

“Arms and the Heroes, who from Lisbon's shore,
Through Seas where sail was never spread before,
Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast,
And waves her woods above the watery waste,
With prowess more than human forced their way
To the fair kingdoms of the rising day:
What wars they waged, what seas, what dangers passed,
What glorious empire crowned their toils at last!”

As armas e os Barões assinalados
Que da Ocidental praia Lusitana
Por mares nunca de antes navegados
Passaram ainda além da Taprobana,
Em perigos e guerras esforçados
Mais do que prometia a força humana,
E entre gente remota edificaram
Novo Reino, que tanto sublimaram.
Stanza 1 (as translated by William Julius Mickle, 1776)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto I

“Whoever, Lady, sees plain and clear
the lovely essence of your fair eyes
and doesn't from seeing them go blind
hasn't paid your looks their due.”

Quem vê, Senhora, claro e manifesto
o lindo ser de vossos olhos belos,
se não perder a vista só em vê-los,
já não paga o que deve a vosso gesto.
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Quem vê, Senhora, claro e manifesto

“Ah, Dinamene,
Thou hast forsaken him
Whose love for thee has never ceased,
And no more will he behold thee on this earth!
How early didst thou deem life of little worth!
I found thee
— Alas, to lose thee all too soon!
How strong, how cruel the waves!
Thou canst not ever know
My longing and my grief!
Did cold death still thy voice
Or didst thou of thyself
Draw the sable veil before thy lovely face?
O sea, O sky, O fate obscure!
To live without thee, Dinamene, avails me not.”

<p>Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste
Quem não deixara nunca de querer-te!
Ah! Ninfa minha, já não posso ver-te,
Tão asinha esta vida desprezaste!</p><p>Como já pera sempre te apartaste
De quem tão longe estava de perder-te?
Puderam estas ondas defender-te
Que não visses quem tanto magoaste?</p><p>Nem falar-te somente a dura Morte
Me deixou, que tão cedo o negro manto
Em teus olhos deitado consentiste!</p><p>Oh mar! oh céu! oh minha escura sorte!
Que pena sentirei que valha tanto,
Que inda tenha por pouco viver triste?</p>
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste

“I speak it to our shame; the cause no grand
Poets adorn our country, is the small
Encouragement to such: for how can he
esteem, that understands not poetry?”

Sem vergonha o não digo, que a razão
De algum não ser por versos excelente,
É não se ver prezado o verso e rima,
Porque quem não sabe arte, não na estima.
Stanza 97, lines 5–8 (tr. Richard Fanshawe)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto V

“That more would he serve, if life
Were not so short for love so long.”

Mais servira, se não fora
Para tão longo amor tão curta a vida.
tr. Norwood Andrews
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Sete anos de pastor Jacob servia

“O foul disgrace, of knighthood lasting stain,
By men of arms a helpless lady slain!”

Contra uma dama, ó peitos carniceiros,
Feros vos amostrais, e cavaleiros?
Stanza 130, lines 7–8 (tr. William Julius Mickle); the death of Inês de Castro.
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto III

“Once you experience love, I'm persuaded
you'll know what I'm on about in my verses.”

Sabei que, segundo o amor tiverdes,
Tereis o entendimento de meus versos.
As translated by Landeg White in The Collected Lyric Poems of Luis de Camoes (2016), p. 25
Lyric poetry, Sonnets, Enquanto quis Fortuna que tivesse

“To this old song:
Partridge lost his quill,
there's no harm won't befall him.

Partridge, whose winged fancy
aspired to a high estate,
lost a feather in his flight
and won the pen of despondency.
He finds in the breeze no buoyancy
for his pennants to haul him:
there's no harm won't befall him.

He wished to soar to a high tower
but found his plumage clipped,
and, observing himself plucked,
pines away in despair.
If he cries out for succor,
stoke the fire to forestall him:
there's no harm won't befall him.”

<p>Perdigão perdeu a pena
Não há mal que lhe não venha.</p><p>Perdigão que o pensamento
Subiu a um alto lugar,
Perde a pena do voar,
Ganha a pena do tormento.
Não tem no ar nem no vento
Asas com que se sustenha:
Não há mal que lhe não venha.</p><p>Quis voar a üa alta torre,
Mas achou-se desasado;
E, vendo-se depenado,
De puro penado morre.
Se a queixumes se socorre,
Lança no fogo mais lenha:
Não há mal que lhe não venha.</p>
"Perdigão que o pensamento", tr. Landeg White in The Collected Lyric Poems of Luis de Camoes (2016), p. 251
Listen to the poem in Portuguese https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P4_2W-ZwV8&feature=youtu.be&t=10m31s
Lyric poetry, Songs (redondilhas)

“To be a lion among sheep, 'tis poor.”

É fraqueza entre ovelhas ser leão.
Stanza 68, line 8 (tr. Richard Fanshawe)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto I

“And you, fair nymphs of Tagus, parent stream,
If ever your meadows were my pastoral theme,
O come auspicious, and the song inspire
With all the boldness of your hero's fire:
Deep and majestic let the numbers flow,
And, rapt to heaven, with ardent fury glow.”

E vós, Tágides minhas, pois criado
Tendes em mi um novo engenho ardente,
Se sempre em verso humilde celebrado
Foi de mi vosso rio alegremente,
Dai-me agora um som alto e sublimado,
Um estilo grandíloco e corrente,
Por que de vossas águas Febo ordene
Que não tenham enveja às de Hipocrene.
Stanza 5 (tr. William Julius Mickle)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto I

“The last words which I uttered on board of the vessel were those of Scipio—'Ungrateful country! thou shalt not even possess my bones'.”

As derradeiras palavras que na náu disse foram as de Scipião Africano: Ingrata patria, non possidebis ossa mea!
Letter written from India (1553) to a friend at Lisbon, as quoted in Poems, from the Portuguese of Luis de Camoens (1808) by Percy Smythe, pp. 16–17
Letters

“As when a rose, ere-while of bloom so gay,
Thrown from the careless virgin's breast away,
Lies faded on the plain, the living red,
The snowy white, and all its fragrance fled;
So from her cheeks the roses died away,
And pale in death the beauteous Inez lay.”

Assim como a bonina, que cortada
Antes do tempo foi, cândida e bela,
Sendo das mãos lascivas maltratada
Da menina que a trouxe na capela,
O cheiro traz perdido e a cor murchada:
Tal está morta a pálida donzela,
Secas do rosto as rosas, e perdida
A branca e viva cor, co'a doce vida.
Stanza 134 (tr. William Julius Mickle)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto III

“Ever in this world saw I
Good men suffer grave torments,
But even more—
Enough to terrify—
Men who live out evil lives
Reveling in pleasure and in content.”

Os bons vi sempre passar
No mundo graves tormentos;
E para mais me espantar,
Os maus vi sempre nadar
Em mar de contentamentos.
"Esparsa ao Desconcerto do Mundo", translation from Luís de Camões and the Epic of the Lusiads (1962) by Henry Hersch Hart, p. 111
Lyric poetry, Songs (redondilhas)

Autores similares

Novalis Foto
Novalis 23
poeta alemán
Alexander Pope Foto
Alexander Pope 29
poeta inglés
Juan de la Cruz Foto
Juan de la Cruz 35
poeta místico y religioso carmelita descalzo del Renacimien…
Friedrich Schiller Foto
Friedrich Schiller 41
poeta, dramaturgo, filósofo e historiador alemán
John Milton Foto
John Milton 16
poeta y ensayista ingléss
Baruch Spinoza Foto
Baruch Spinoza 206
filósofo neerlandés
Samuel Johnson Foto
Samuel Johnson 41
Ensayista y poeta inglés
Jean De La Fontaine Foto
Jean De La Fontaine 19
Poeta, escritor y fabulista francés
Giordano Bruno Foto
Giordano Bruno 81
astrónomo, filósofo, religioso y poeta italiano