ANTÔNIO DE CASTRO ALVES

Versão do Navio Negreiro em Inglês

The Slave Ship
(Tragedy in the Sea)


We are on the high seas... Mad in space 
The moonlight plays — golden butterfly; 
And the waves run after it. . . tire 
Like a band of troubled infants. 
We are on the high seas... From the firmament 
The stars leap like spray of gold. . . 
The sea in turn lights phosphorescence, 
— Constellations of liquid treasure... 

 

We are on the high seas... Two infinites 
Strain there in a mad embrace 
Blue, golden, placid, sublime.. 
Which of the two is ocean? Which sky?... 

 

We are on the high seas.. . Opening the sails, 
To the warm breath of the marine breezes, 
Sailed brig run on the crests of the seas, 
As the swallows brush in the wave... 

 

Whence do you come? Wither do you go? Of the erring ships 
Who knows the course if the space is so great? 
On this Sahara the coursers raise dust, 
Gallop, soar, but leave no trace. 

 

Happy he who can, there, at fhis hour, 
Feel this panel's magesty!.. . 
Below — the sea... above — the firmament! ... 
And in the sea and in the sky — the immensity! 

 

Oh! what sweet harmony the breeze brings me! 
What soft music sounds far off! 
My God! how sublime an ardent song is 
Floating at random on the endless waves! 

 

Men of the sea! Oh rude mariners, 
Toasfed by the sun of the four worlds! 
Children whom the tempests warmed 
In the cradle of these profound abysses! 

 

Wait! ... wait! ... let me drink 
This savage, free poetry.. . 
Orchestra — is the sea, which roars by the prow 
And the wind, which whistles in the ropes. 

 

Why do you flee thus, swift barque? 
Why do you flee the fearless poet? 
Would that I could accompany the furrow 
You sow in the sea — mad comet! 

 

Albatroz! Albatroz! Eagle of the ocean, 
You who sleep in the gauze of the clouds, 
Shake your feathers, leviathan of space 
Albatroz! Albatroz! give me those wings. 


 

II
 

What does the sailor's cradle matter, 
Or where he is the son, where his home? 
He loves the cadence of the verse 
Which is faught him by the old sea! 
Sing! Death is divine! 
The brig slips on the bowline — Like a swift dolphin. 
Fast to the mizzen mast 
The nostalgic flag points 
To the waves it leaves behind. 
From the Spanish, chants 
Broken with languor, 
They recall the dusky maidens 
The Andalusians in flower! 
From Italy the indolent son 
Sings of sleeping Venice, 
— Land of love and treachery, 
Or from the gulf in its lap 
Recalls the verses of Tasso 
Close to the lava of the volcano. 

 

The Englishman — cold mariner 
Who from birth found himself at sea 
(Because England is a ship, 
Which God anchored in the Channel), 
Stern, he intoans his countryls glories 
Remembering, proudly, histories 
Of Nelson and of Aboukir. 
The Frenchman — predestined — 
Sings of the triumphs of the past 
And the laurels to come! 

 

The Hellenic sailors, 
Whom Ionian space created, 
Beautiful dark pirates 
From the sea that Ulysses cut, 
Men that Phydias seulped, 
Are singing in the clear night 
Verses that Homer moaned... 
Sailors from all lands, 
Know how to find in the waves 
The melodies of the skies!. . . 


 

III 
 

Descend from the immense space, oh eagle of the ocean, 
Descend more... even more.. . human glance cannot 
Like yours plunge into the flying brig! 
But what is it I see there... What picture of bitterness 
It’s funeral song! ... What tetric figures! ... 
What an infamous vile scene!... My God! my God! What horror! 


 

IV 
 

It was a dantesque dream.. . the deck 
Great lights redenning its brilliance, 
Bathing it in blood. 
Clang of irons. .. snap of whip ... 
Legions of men black as the night 
Horrible dancing... 

 

Black women, holding to their breasts 
Scrawny infants whose black mouths 
Are watered by the blood of their mothers: 
Others, young, but nude and frightened, 
In the whirlwind of specters drawn 
From anxiety and vane resentment! 

 

And the orchestra laughs, ironic, strident... 
And from the fantastic circle a serpent 
Spirals madly... 
If the old man cringes, slips to the ground, 
You hear shouts... the whip cracks. 
And they fligh more and more. 

 

Prisoned in the bars of a single jail 
The famished multitude shudders, 
Aud weeps and dances! 
One is delirious from rabies, another is going mad, 
Another, bruttish from martyrdom 
Sings, groans, and laughs! 

 

Meantime the captain commands the maneuver 
And after gazing at the sky which unfolds 
So pure over the sea, 
Cries out of the gloom of dense obscurity, 
"Shake out the whip, mariners! 
Make them dance, more!..." 

 

And the orquestra laughs ironic, strident... 
And from the fantastic circle a serpent 
Spirals madly... 
Like a dantesque dream the shadows fly! 
Shouts, ahs, curses, embodied prayers! 
And Satan laughs! ... 

 

V 

 

Lord God of the unfortunate! 
Tell me Lord God! 
If if is madness... or truth 
So much horror under the skies?!... 
Oh sea why do you not erase 
With the sponge of the waves, 
Your mantle, this blot?... 
Stars! Nights! Tempests! 
Roll down from the immensity! 
Sweep the seas, typhoon! 

 

Who are these unfortunates 
Who do not find in you, 
More than the calm laughter of the band 
Which excitcs the torturers to fury? 
Who are they? If the star hushes, 
If the oppressive space slides by 
Like a furtive accomplice, 
Before the confused night 
Say it severe Muse 
Free, audacious Muse! ... 

 

They are the sons of the desert, 
Where the land espouses the light 
Where in the open spaces lives 
A tribe of nude men. . . 
They are daring warriors 
Who with the, spotted tigers 
Combat in the solitude. 
Yesterday simple, strong, brave... 
Today miserable slaves, 
Lacking air, light, reason. 

 

They are disgraced women 
Like Agar was also, 
Who thirsty, weakened, 
Come from far far off... 
Bringiiig with tepid steps, 
Children and irons on their arms, 
In their souls — tears and gaul. . . 
Like Agar suffering so much 
That not even the milk of lament 
Have they to give Ismael. 

 

Off there on the limitless sands, 
From the palms of the country, 
They were born — beautiful children, 
They lived — gentle maidens.. . 
A caravan goes by one day 
When the virgin in the cabin 
Apprehensive from the veils of night 
... Good-bye mountain hut, 
... Good-bye palms of the fountain! 
... Good-bye, loves... good-bye! 

 

Afterwards, the extensive sands 
Afterwards, the ocean of dust. 
Afterwards, on the immense horizon 
Deserts... deserts only... 
And hunger, the tiredness, the thirst... 
Oh how many unfortunates give up, 
And fail to rise no more! ... 
A place in the chain vacates, 
But the jackal on the sand 
Finds a body to gnaw. 

 

Yesterday Sierra Leôa, 
The war, the chase, the lion, 
Sleep slept carelessly 
Under the tents of amplitude! 
Today the dark, deep hole 
Infected, cramped, loathsome 
Having the plague for a jaguar... 
And sleep always broken 
By death rattles 
And the thud of corpses into the sea. . . 

 

Yesterday full liberty, 
Will for power... 
Today... the peek of malice 
They are not even free to die... 
The same chain binds them 
— Lugubrious iron snake — 
In the threads of slavery. 
And so humming of death, 
The lugubrious cohort dances 
To the sound of the lash ... Humiliation!. . . 

 

Lord God of the unfortunate! 
Tell me, Lord God, 
Am I delirious... or is it truth 
So much horror under the skies?! ... 
Oh sea, why don't you crase 
With the sponge of the waves, 
Your mantle, this blot? 
Stars! nights! tempests! 
Roll down from the immensity 
Sweep the seas, typhoon! 
 

 

VI 
 

A people exists that lends its flag 
To cover so much infamy and cowardice!. 
Transforming it in that feast 
Into the impure mantle of a cold bacchante! ... 
My God! my God! but what flag is this, 
That impudent floats from the truck? 
Silence, muse... weep, weep so much 
That the standard may be washed, by your grief! ... 

 

Green-gold pendant of my land, 
That the breeze of Brazil caresses and unfurls 
Standard that in the light of the sun encloses 
Promises of divine hope... 
You, who in the liberty after war, 
Were hoisted by heroes on the lance, 
Rather that you had been torn in battle 
Than serve a people as a shrowd! ... 

 

Atrocious fatality which overwhelms the mind 
Extinguish this hour loathsome brig 
The furrow that Columbus opened in the waves, 
Like an iris in the depth of the seas! 
But this is too much infamy! ... From the ethereal regions 
Rise, heroes of the New World! 
Andrada! Rip that pendant from the air! 
Columbus! Close the portais of your seas!


Tradutor: DAVID BARNHART