It's been a while since I translated a Camilo Pessanha poem. I started on this one a couple months ago and polished it up today, though it could still use work, as is always the case. In keeping with my recent thoughts on literal vs. poetic translation- mainly inspired by conversations with my wife- I've taken a little more liberty with this poem, though I've left in Pessanha's beloved dashes and ellipses. I encountered another discrepancy between the original Clepsidra text and the one used in the volume translated by Rui Cascais; naturally, I've followed the original.
Diverta-se, folks, and, as always, obrigado por ler a minha escrita.
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Quando voltei encontrei os meus passos
Ainda frescos sobre a húmida areia.
A fugitiva hora, reevoquei-a,
— Tão rediviva! nos meus olhos baços...
Olhos turvos de lágrimas contidas.
— Mesquinhos passos, porque doidejastes
Assim transviados, e depois tornastes
Ao ponto das primeiras despedidas?
Onde fostes sem tino, ao vento vário,
Em redor, como as aves num aviário,
Até que a asita fofa lhes faleça...
Toda essa extensa pista — para quê?
Se há-de vir apagar-vos a maré,
Como as do novo rasto que começa...
***
When I returned I found my steps
Still fresh on the wet sand.
I recalled the fugitive hour,
— So revived! In my dimmed eyes...
Eyes turbid with tears held back.
— Halting steps, why did you play the fool
so misled, and then return
To the point of the first goodbyes?
Where you went mindlessly into the fickle wind,
Around, like the birds in an aviary,
Until the soft wings die...
All this long path- for what?
If the tide comes to wash you away,
Like the new trail that begins...
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