Lucianne Fasolo

Rookie (Curitiba, Brazil)

Ah, O Amor... [sonnet In Honor Of Camões] - Poem by Lucianne Fasolo

Amor é chama donde surge o ser
Enlouquecido tão completamente:
O pobre jura amar eternamente
Enquanto chora o próprio enlouquecer.

O tempo escoa; certo é perceber
Que o fogo arde mais intensamente
Conquanto novo, cego e eloqüente,
Porém é seu destino arrefecer.

Amar por toda a vasta eternidade
Não é possível: não co'aquele ardor
Que é inerente à fátua mocidade.

Camões cantou com similar fervor?
Talvez não tenha o visto de verdade,
Talvez nem tenha conhecido o Amor...


Comments about Ah, O Amor... [sonnet In Honor Of Camões] by Lucianne Fasolo

  • (9/8/2008 12:05:00 AM)

    oh! amor solo estan donde. muy bonita. muhos gracias. md (Report)Reply

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  • (2/2/2008 2:48:00 PM)

    I am ignorant of this language I have read Williams translation but I will await you translation. Poems tend to lose something by translation but given the beautyof the original meter I am content to wait. Ivor (Report)Reply

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  • (1/29/2008 3:40:00 PM)

    William's translation was great, but I will very much look forward to your own. (Report)Reply

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  • (12/14/2007 8:17:00 AM)

    I'm working on a translation right now, : P The quatrains are translated already, I'm just correcting the meter in them. The other two stanzas are in process, lol. I'll post the whole translation when I'm done.
    Anyway, as I said on the PM I sent you, your translation is very good, William! Thanks for going through the trouble of translating! : D :)
    (Report)Reply

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  • (11/25/2007 3:28:00 PM)

    Lucianne, I so much wanted to understand what you had written, so I did my best to translate it with the tools of the internet.* I had to fill in some gaps with guesses and at this time I only attempted to translate the meaning and not to maintain the rhyme of the sonnet Is this somewhat accurate as far as the meaning? Let me know please. Your poem is very passionate, lovely. Thank you!

    Ah, Oh Love

    Love is flame where it arises,
    being driven completely mad.
    The dull promise is to duty perpetual
    while proper love cries to go crazy.

    The time flows off; certain it is to perceive
    that the fire burns more intensely new.
    Although blind and eloquent, however,
    its destination is to cool.

    To love for all the vast eternity
    with such hotness is not possible:
    not for anyone.

    Did Camões sing with similar fervor
    that youth is inherent to passion?
    Perhaps, perhaps youth
    does not have the face of truth,
    nor has anyone known such Love...
    (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 15, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 25, 2011


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