Classic Poem

FRAGMENT OF POEM

It is evening and the setting sun lighting its furnaces
Seems bent founder revives embers;
As a golden shield to forge blushed
By a bloody fog extended sun
Immersed in a mass of strange clouds
That are hanging on the water purple of their fringes.
The shore is desert-for any noise you hear
Breathing chasm panting.

The wind and the sea, against the pitfall smoking,
Shoot the white foam of its herd horses.
They climb to the assault, jumble swimming,
Standing, shaking their manes money
Scattering in the air their disheveled tail
Biting the chest, as in the fray,
Drunk with the fight, bite horses
The pole of a chariot harnessed and rivals.
But the rock brought down their army crazy in rain
And appears on the brink a swimmer who wipes:
Such a great name, beat fools and jealous,
Sees his feet melt and lose their blows.

Climbing to the top of the high cliff
Where the tide flat look comfortable,
Do not you see, there, on the horizon
Where the day that shines off the last firebrand,
A point almost erased?

Probably a seagull

Making after a flood her mad pirouette;
Hurricane future, an albatross, joyful,
A wing in the sea and the other in heaven;
Or a bream, shark trip
Betraying awash its gray back that floats ...

No no.-C is a steamer and already we can see,
As the crest of a helmet a long black plume
Dishevel to wind the smoke plume
That pushes the steam out of his mouth inflamed.
Here he comes and ranks the islets,
Wheel and stopped the waves slap.

Ship still stands a canoe.
The water, which swells and falls, and watch and cache.
At times, into the abyss it is believed swallowed;
But the pungent valley painfully out,
Soon he reappeared at the crest of the waves,
Opening and closing the range of its trains.

With the rudder, gloomy, silent,
In its embossed cape, hat over his eyes,
A young man is sitting. As a nation in turmoil
About God, the waves spit out their insults;
The wind made his cloak flutter folds;
The skiff tremble and complains under the blows of the roll;
He dreams, and his whole black chimeras
Leans his forehead shining under bitter beads.

One approach to the board; already oars [quick;
Fighting water leaking on the beats less
His bronze keel scratching the wet sand,
The skiff stopped. With a nimble and quick leap
The stranger jumped to the ground, and, taking a few steps,
Win a dry spot where the sea does not reach
Then, with a royal gesture, threw her purse to sailors.
Refloated, the skiff, like a racehorse
Shaking the squire to his jaw hanging,
Part.-The stranger standing on his hard rock
Before going further turns and looks.

Although it is night, the sea a pale light
Rayon and you can see the rowers on their bench
To get rowing back drop.
Against the swollen waves the boat struggle
But soon bypassing its huge volute
Swell, in a fold of his white tent,
A seized sailors and twisted boat.
The gulf swimming, rare, they appear
But the furious waves from all sides press.
That night, they pretty tender and stiffen their arms,
Their beds are made of algae and scum their sheets.
Under a murky shroud to thump storms,
A pillow of sand asleep their heads.
The last to finish a punishment too long,
Sink as a probe following the lead.

The young man has seen it all, but change the look!
The demon writhing under the foot of the archangel,
The aspic cut looking to reseal its nodes
Do not have the apple in a hate flash;
And yet with undeniable shades
On his handsome features, horror and pity are painted;
Oppressed his chest burst into sobs deaf.
He descends to the shore, and the foot in the sea,
Scaring her cries frightened the gulls,
Stirred his hands madly desperate! ...

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