The One-Legged Grasshopper: poem
I
A grass green being upon the grey sidewalk
On one hind leg alone, not two, I saw;
Strangely standing still, this green insect,
It did not twitch, it did not move, and yet,
Despite the damage, ’twas listlessly alive,
Unfit to flee, of hopping thus deprived.
Marv’lous emerald, its shell the gemlike gleam
Of the vernal leaves verdantly sparkling,
Reflecting the rays of noontide sunlight,
Had me halt my walk, awed by the strange sight:
A broken piece of nature led astray,
Token from another world, far away.
Springlike or otherwise, what was it worth
The existence, if to hop it had no hope?
Its misery was sealed, impending doom;
Spring season passed, and gave way to autumn.
Await the withering winter, creature lost,
That buries leaves forever under frost.
Cursed creature, condemn’d life in its prime.
A waste, a wicked sin, sinister crime
Alas! Cruel life, though natural it may be;
Did not your son advise the contrary,
O God of Heaven and the world beneath,
Who tosses the wheat along with the weed.
II
With strong legs, to my leap none could compare.
I have been here, there, hopping everywhere;
I’m unbeatable, the first in this sport;
Or was until now, for hop I cannot:
I’m a one-legged grasshopper, and will be
Until the last day fin’lly comes to me.
From the ground I gaze at that sight so dear,
The wondrous welkin, looking brightly clear;
And underneath, the leaves far out of reach
Abound on boughs of the bountiful beech;
Immovable, their stalks bound to the tree,
Woefully wishing that they could break free.
Wistful I listen to leaves in the wind;
They rattle and laugh at my damaged hind.
Of my fate the irony they admire:
Once high and mighty, now laid on the mire.
Misery! To leap, tough though it may be,
One leg’s no better than zero or three.
Fate it may be, but what about this twist
That takes from me the reason to exist.
What is freedom, that I lack in this state —
The power to determine my own fate.
What’s left but dread, the fear of what’s ahead?
I’m alive. I am not dead. I am dead.
Reuni 10 poemas de autores clássicos em uma coleção intitulada VIXI + MORI: poemas de vida e morte.
São poemas de: Baudelaire, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Burns, Charlotte Brontë, William Blake, Byron, Schiller, Kipling, Verlaine, Shakespeare; traduzidos e revisado com dedicação, para preservar a beleza dos originais.
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