Melted in the Crucible

(Photo from the movie Spirited Away) This translation is an excerpt from one of Manuel Bandeira's poems. Life is a miracle. Each flower, With its shape, its color, its scent, Each flower is a miracle. Each bird, With its plumage, in its flight, chirping, Each bird is a miracle. Space, so boundless, Space is a miracle. Time, unfathomable, Time is a miracle. Memory is a miracle. Self-awareness is a miracle. Everything is a miracle. Everything but death.

  My own translation - into Portuguese - of this beautiful gem of Shakespeare's on grief. Luto enche o quarto de meu filho ausente,  Deita em seu leito, sobe e desce a mim,  Assume o belo porte, a fala imita,  Lembrando-me de todo o seu encanto,  Os trajes vagos veste com sua forma;  Este o motivo de gozar o luto.  Luto, adeus! foste tu sofrer a perda,  Dar-te-ia consolo bem melhor,  Tirarei esta forma da cabeça,  Pois me é tal o desvario no pensar.  Senhor! Meu filho Arthur, menino meu!  Mi'a vida, gozo, pão, meu mundo todo!  Consolo, alento, unção p'ra minha dor! Diniz Junior, E. M., & Shakespeare, W. (1998). William Shakespeare - King John Ato III, Cena IV. Cadernos De Literatura Em Tradução , (2), 20-21.

  Disenchantment Manuel Bandeira I write these verses as I weep, With disenchantment and dismay. Please close my book if now in glee You have no reason to cry, I pray. My verse is blood. It's burning lust... It's scattered grief and vain remorse. It hurts my veins; it makes me flush. It oozes, drop by drop, in sores. These lines, this anguish, this hoarse cry They flow like life from my dry lips, They leave an acrid aftertaste. I write these verses at death's door.