“Soneto da Fidelidade” (Vinícius de Moraes, 1939)
On what would have been his 111th birthday, a translation of a sonnet by Vinícius de Moraes. I tried something new with this translation compared to other poetry I have included here: I have not only rendered the meaning of the words, but I have also kept the sonnet form (14 ten-syllable verses) and Vinícius’s rhyme scheme (ABBA ABBA CDE DEC). I also tried to preserve the general meaning of each verse in order, something that probably caused me more headaches than if I had allowed the sentiments to move around with the sonnet. My efforts don’t always work completely (I was unable to get true decasyllabic verse rhythm, for example), but I’m very pleased with the way some parts turned out. (Note that Portuguese counts syllables up to the last stressed syllable in a line while English counts all the syllables.) The first verse in particular turned out quite well, but forced my hand into some awkwardness in the lines that needed to rhyme with it. Overall an interesting exercise that I’m glad I tried.
“Soneto de Fidelidade”
De tudo ao meu amor serei atento
Antes, e com tal zelo, e sempre, e tanto
Que mesmo em face do maior encanto
Dele se encante mais meu pensamento.
Quero vivê-lo em cada vão momento
E em seu louvor hei de espalhar meu canto
E rir meu riso e derramar meu pranto
Ao seu pesar ou seu contentamento
E assim, quando mais tarde me procure
Quem sabe a morte, angústia de quem vive
Quem sabe a solidão, fim de quem ama
Eu possa me dizer do amor (que tive):
Que não seja imortal, posto que é chama
Mas que seja infinito enquanto dure.
“Faithfulness Sonnet”
To my love in all things I shall attend
Before, with such zeal, always, and so long
That facing all charm no matter how strong
My thoughts more to its enchantment will bend.
All living moments with it I will spend
And in its praise I have to spread my song
Laughing my laughter, lamenting the wrong
To its regret or contentment as end
And thus, when later search for me is cast
Perhaps by death, all lovers’ agony
Perhaps by solitude, which doth love tame
I may tell myself of love (given me):
That is not immortal, being a flame
But that may be infinite while it last.