Nada evocava simplicidade.
Sua alma de medo nunca foi despossuída,
E, agora mesmo, por uma caneca de cerveja, três vezes seria vendida
Ele parecia desconhecer o amor, apreciar o pavor
Acima de todos os sentimentos humanos. Ele gostava dos mortos;
A grama para ele não era verde, sequer era grama;
Nem o sol era sol; a rosa, rosa; o fumo, fumo; a rama, rama.
The collected poetry of Malcolm Lowry
Tradução: Lauro Marques
No Ruppert Broke, and no great lover, he
Remembered little of simplicity.
His soul had never beeen empty of fear,
And he would sell it thrice now for a tankard of beer
He seemed to have known no love, to have valued dread
Above all human feelings. He like the dead;
The grass was not green, not even grass to him;
Nor was sun, sun; rose, rose; smoke, smoke,; limb, limb.
Tradução: Lauro Marques
No Ruppert Broke, and no great lover, he
Remembered little of simplicity.
His soul had never beeen empty of fear,
And he would sell it thrice now for a tankard of beer
He seemed to have known no love, to have valued dread
Above all human feelings. He like the dead;
The grass was not green, not even grass to him;
Nor was sun, sun; rose, rose; smoke, smoke,; limb, limb.
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