“O Tygre”: William Blake / “The Tyger”

 

O Tygre_title_Augusto de Campos translation of the William Blake poemIllustration for Augusto de Campos translation of The Tygre by William Blake_From a Turkish Dervish mural 19th century.

O Tygre_first stanza.

O Tygre_second and third stanzas.

O Tygre_fourth and fifth stanzas.

O Tygre_sixth stanza

 


A poesia concreta: Tudo Está Dito / Everything Was Said: the “Concrete” poems of Augusto de Campos

 

Augusto de Campos_Axis_1957_translated by Edwin Morgan

Augusto de Campos_Axis_1957_translated by Edwin Morgan

Augusto de Campos_Tudo Está Dito_1974

Augusto de Campos_Tudo Está Dito_1974

Augusto de Campos_Everything was said_1974

Augusto de Campos_Everything was said_1974

Augusto de Campos_O Pulsar_1975

Augusto de Campos_O Pulsar_1975

Augusto de Campos_The Pulsar_1975

Augusto de Campos_The Pulsar_1975

Augusto de Campos_O Quasar_1975

Augusto de Campos_O Quasar_1975

Augusto de Campos_The Quasar_1975

Augusto de Campos_The Quasar_1975

Augusto de Campos_Memos_1976

Augusto de Campos_Memos_1976

Augusto de Campos_Memos_1976_translated by Claus Cluver

Augusto de Campos_Memos_1976_translated by Claus Cluver

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Copyright dos poemas e traduções
© 1983 Wesleyan University Press

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The phrase Concrete Poetry was coined in 1956 in São Paulo, Brazil, after an exhibition of such poems (I Exposição Nacional de Arte Concreta) that included works by the group Noigandres (Augusto and Haroldo de Campos, Décio Pignatari and Ronaldo Azeredo). The poets Ferreira Gullar and Wlademir Dias-Pino were also featured. Eventually, a Brazilian Concrete Poetry manifesto was published. The manifesto’s core value was that of using words as part of a specifically visual work so that those words are not mere unseen vehicles for ideas.
Although the term Concrete Poetry is contemporary, the idea of using letter arrangements to enhance the meaning of a poem is an ancient one. Such poetry originated in the then-Greek city of Alexandria (in Egypt) during the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE.

Old fashioned metal typesetters' blocks_These tools were used by the print and publishing trades before the advent of the computer era_The Concrete Poetry movement relied on such standard building blocks for its words-as-objects format.

Old fashioned metal typesetters’ blocks_These tools were used by the print and publishing trades before the advent of the computer era_The Concrete Poetry movement relied on such standard building blocks for its words-as-objects format.

Vintage typesetters blocks_zero to nine


Gregório de Matos as Hell’s Mouth poet (A Boca do Inferno): a 17th-century poetical critique of the colonial city of Salvador da Bahia / translation by Daniel Vianna

Salvador da Bahia_a print of the city as it might have looked during the 17th century_by Paulo Lachenmeyer

Salvador da Bahia_a print of the city as it might have looked during the 17th century_by Paulo Lachenmeyer

Gregório de Matos
Diagnosis of the ailments that left the Body of the Republic – and all its limbs – ill; and a complete definition of what at all times is Bahia
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What’s missing in this city?…The Truth.
What more is there gives it dishonour?… Honour.
Is there anything left to blame? – Shame.
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Regardless of its great fame,
The devil is now living
In this city that is missing
Truth, honour, shame.

What brought it so much pain?… Bargaining.
What caused such perdition?… Ambition.
And amidst this insanity?… Usury.
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Amazing misadventure
Of an ignorant, sad people,
Who know very little but:
Bargaining, ambition, usury.
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Which markets do they follow?… The Black Slave.
Which “goods”, not so hollow?… Mulattoes.
And they prefer which people?… Mestizos.
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To the devil the ignoble,
To the devil all these asses,
Who prefer among all races:
The Negro, Mulatto, Mestizo.
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Who makes the fines so stiff?… Bailiffs.
Who makes the food come later?… Jailers.
Who takes all for their families?…Deputies.
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It’s we are taxed to eternity,
And the land is left there – starving,
When we hear them come a-knocking:
Bailiffs, jailers, deputies.
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And what justice is left?… It’s a wreck.
Is it freely dispensed?… It’s for sale!
Why are people so scared?…’cause it’s fake.
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Help me God, so I can take
what the King gives us for free;
our Justice is known to be
A wreck – and for sale – and fake.
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What’s going on with the clergy?… Simony.
And the members of the Church?… Lust.
Is there anything left to see?… Yes – Envy.
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The same old story
Still drives the Holy See:
What brings them to their knees is:
Simony, lust and envy.
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Is their anything monks won’t shun?… It’s Nuns.
What occupies their evenings?… Bickering.
Entangled they get in disputes?… With Prostitutes!
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I would rather be mute
Than to utter hard truths:
The profession of monks is:
Nuns, bickering – and prostitutes.
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Has the sugar run out?… It’s down.
Have we got better luck?… Now it’s up.
Has the treasury been fed?… They’re dead.
.
Cidade-Bahia has known
What happens to the sickest:
They fall ill, they get fever;
They’re down, and it’s up – now they’re dead.
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Parliament don’t help?… It can’t.
It don’t have the power?… It won’t.
And if government tries?… It dies.
.
Who would think that such lies
noble parliament drives,
in predicament finds, and still:
it can’t, it won’t – and it dies.

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Portuguese to English translation: Daniel Vianna

 . . .

Gregório de Matos
Juízo anatômico dos achaques que padecia o corpo da República em todos os membros, e inteira definição do que em todos os tempos é a Bahia
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Que falta nesta cidade?… Verdade.
Que mais por sua desonra?… Honra.
Falta mais que se lhe ponha?… Vergonha.
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O demo a viver se exponha,
Por mais que a fama a exalta,
Numa cidade onde falta
Verdade, honra, vergonha.
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Quem a pôs neste rocrócio?… Negócio.
Quem causa tal perdição?… Ambição.
E no meio desta loucura?… Usura.
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Notável desaventura
De um povo néscio e sandeu,
Que não sabe que perdeu
Negócio, ambição, usura.
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Quais são seus doces objetos?… Pretos.
Tem outros bens mais maciços?… Mestiços.
Quais destes lhe são mais gratos?… Mulatos.
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Dou ao Demo os insensatos,
Dou ao Demo o povo asnal,
Que estima por cabedal,
Pretos, mestiços, mulatos.
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Quem faz os círios mesquinhos?… Meirinhos.
Quem faz as farinhas tardas?… Guardas.
Quem as tem nos aposentos?… Sargentos.
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Os círios lá vem aos centos,
E a terra fica esfaimando,
Porque os vão atravessando
Meirinhos, guardas, sargentos.
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E que justiça a resguarda?… Bastarda.
É grátis distribuída?… Vendida.
Que tem, que a todos assusta?… Injusta.
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Valha-nos Deus, o que custa
O que El-Rei nos dá de graça.
Que anda a Justiça na praça
Bastarda, vendida, injusta.

Que vai pela clerezia?… Simonia.
E pelos membros da Igreja?… Inveja.
Cuidei que mais se lhe punha?… Unha
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Sazonada caramunha,
Enfim, que na Santa Sé
O que mais se pratica é
Simonia, inveja e unha.
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E nos frades há manqueiras?… Freiras.
Em que ocupam os serões?… Sermões.
Não se ocupam em disputas?… Putas.
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Com palavras dissolutas
Me concluo na verdade,
Que as lidas todas de um frade
São freiras, sermões e putas.
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O açúcar já acabou?… Baixou.
E o dinheiro se extinguiu?… Subiu.
Logo já convalesceu?… Morreu.
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À Bahia aconteceu
O que a um doente acontece:
Cai na cama, e o mal cresce,
Baixou, subiu, morreu.
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A Câmara não acode?… Não pode.
Pois não tem todo o poder?… Não quer.
É que o Governo a convence?… Não vence.
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Quem haverá que tal pense,
Que uma câmara tão nobre,
Por ver-se mísera e pobre,
Não pode, não quer, não vence.

. . . . .


Gregório de Matos: Seeking Christ (Buscando a Cristo) / translation by Daniel Vianna

Gregório de Matos_xilogravura por Érick Lima

Gregório de Matos_xilogravura por Érick Lima

Gregório de Matos (1636-1696, Brazilian Baroque poet)
Seeking Christ
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I run to your arms so sacred,
so bare on this holy cross;
Nailed open, there they greet me
– no, they do not chastise.
To your divine eyes, darkened,
that sweat, that blood, have opened;
To forgive me, have awoken,
and, closed, do not condemn.
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To your nailed feet that don’t leave me,
To your blood, spilled, that cleanses me,
To your bowed head now calling me.
To your bared side I shall bind me,
I’ll fasten myself to those precious nails;
to be bound most firmly, and steady,
enduring as one – without fail.

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Portuguese to English translation: Daniel Vianna

. . .

Gregório de Matos
Buscando a Cristo
.
A vós correndo vou, braços sagrados,
Nessa cruz sacrossanta descobertos
Que, para receber-me, estais abertos,
E, por não castigar-me, estais cravados.
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A vós, divinos olhos, eclipsados
De tanto sangue e lágrimas abertos,
Pois, para perdoar-me, estais despertos,
E, por não condenar-me, estais fechados.
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A vós, pregados pés, por não deixar-me,
A vós, sangue vertido, para ungir-me,
A vós, cabeça baixa, p’ra chamar-me
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A vós, lado patente, quero unir-me,
A vós, cravos preciosos, quero atar-me,
Para ficar unido, atado e firme.
. . . . .