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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-10-17 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Axel Lenn
Urns broken into pieces – anywhere
huge tombstones of marble resting underneath so many legionaries, lo Hinov – hidden within, everywhere the flood of centuries flown by. Treading on this struck dumb land, I see what you don’t see: shadows of those heroes we all descended from; and sitting in the silent valley, can’t help but laugh at rhythm and mock at any rule; my rhythm is the uproar their mail coats produce. I see them… there they are: all risen from their graves… All passing by – passing by hundreds; lo: helmets made of steel, Romans broad-shouldered, - wavy their hair; mighty their arm. The whole ancient Rome reveals itself ‘fore me: consuls, proconsuls, patrons, daughters, affranchised slaves – the whole ancient Rome: pontiffs, then, vestals too, flamens, Saturnalia. – Ave! Eternal star, still vagrant on these shores. Hush, o! empty lines… and bite the ground, you poet; - Caesars all now passing – lay your kiss upon this land: holly it is. (adapted translation Axel H. Lenn - after “Hinov” by al. Macedonski)
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