Que o jovem, fortalecido pela dura campanha,
de boa-mente a difícil pobreza aprenda a suportar,
__que ele, cavaleiro temido por sua lança,
____o terror semeie entre os feros Partos,
sob o céu aberto em constante perigo vivendo.
Vendo-o das muralhas inimigas,
__que a mãe, esposa de um rei guerreiro,
____e sua filha virgem já adulta
suspirem, ah, ansiando que o noivo príncipe,
inexperiente na guerra, não provoque um tal leão,
__rude a áspero ao toque, cuja sangrenta cólera
____o arrasta pelo meio da chacina.
Doce e belo é morrer pela pátria:
a morte persegue o homem que foge,
__nem se apieda dos joelhos ou das covardes costas
____da pusilânime juventude.
A Virtude, desconhecendo o sórdido revés,
refulge em imaculadas honras, e não segura
__ou põe de parte as machadinhas,
____à maré da vontade poular.
A Virtude, abrindo aos que não merecem morrer
do céu as portas, aventura-se por negado caminho,
__e, de asas ao vento, a vulgar populaça
____e a húmida terra despreza.
O fiel silêncio tem também segura recompensa:
aquele que revelado tiver o culto da misteriosa Ceres
__proibirei de viver sob o meu tecto,
____ou de comigo levantar âncora
no mesmo frágil barco. Tantas vezes Júpiter, desprezado,
o inocente não distinguiu do culpado: raramento o Castigo,
__com seu pé manco, o criminoso abandonou
____que à frente tinha partido.(ODES III. 2)
HORÁCIO.
Odes, Cotovia, 2008.
(Trad.: Pedro Braga Falcão)
Regina Spektor, "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
OWEN, Wilfred.
"Dulce et decorum est"
The Skids, "Dulce et decorum est (pro patria mori)"
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