Homoerotic poetry

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I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.

And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.

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The rain outside was cold in Hadrian's soul.

The boy lay dead
On the low couch, on whose denuded whole,
To Hadrian's eyes, whose sorrow was a dread,
The shadowy light of Death's eclipse was shed.

The boy lay dead, and the day seemed a night
Outside. The rain fell like a sick affright
Of Nature at her work in killing him.
Memory of what he was gave no delight,
Delight at what he was was dead and dim.

O hands that once had clasped Hadrian's warm hands,
Whose cold now found them cold!
O hair bound erstwhile with the pressing bands!
O eyes half-diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body such
As a god's likeness to humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst could touch
Lust's seats with a live art's variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be told!
O tongue which, counter-tongued, made the blood bold!
O complete regency of lust throned on
Raged consciousness's spilled suspension!
... ... ...

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(Fernando Pessoa wrote this poem in English)

* * *
A chuva fora era fria n'Alma de Adriano.

Jaz morto o jovem
No baixo coxim, e na sua plena nudez,
Aos olhos de Adriano, cujo pesar era pavor,
A crepuscu-luz do eclipse morte derramava-se.

Jaz morto o jovem e o dia como era noite
Lá fora. Caia a chuva, mórbido tormento
Da natura no ofício de matá-lo.
Lembrança do que ele era já não dava prazer,
Prazer que ele fôra estava morto e fosco.

Oh mãos que já enlaçaram as de Adriano ardentes,
Cuja frieza agora as sente frias!
Oh cabelos outrora atados por faixas!
Oh olhos de meio-tímida audácia!
Oh corpo, liso qual femea, masculino
Se assemelhando um deus à humanidade!
Oh lábios cujo róseo entreabrir podia tocar
Tronos da volúpia com variações de arte viva!
Oh dedos destros em coisas que não se diz!
Oh língua que, outra tocando, tornava o sangue audaz!
Oh total regência da luxuria entronizada
Na vertida suspensão da consciência irada!
... ... ...

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Los marineros son las alas del amor,
son los espejos del amor,
el mar les acompaña,
y sus ojos son rubios lo mismo que el amor
rubio es también, igual que son sus ojos.

La alegría vivaz que vierten en las venas
rubia es también,
idéntica a la piel que asoman;
no les dejéis marchar porque sonríen
como la libertad sonríe,
luz cegadora erguida sobre el mar.

Si un marinero es mar,
rubio mar amoroso cuya presencia es cántico,
no quiero la ciudad hecha de sueños grises;
quiero sólo ir al mar donde me anegue,
barca sin norte,
cuerpo sin norte hundirme en su luz rubia.

* * *
Sailors are the wings of love,
They are the mirrors of love,
The sea accompanies them,
And their eyes are blond just as love
Is blond, just like their eyes.


The lively happiness that flows in their veins
Is also blond,
Just like the skin it shows through;
Don't let them get away because they smile
As freedom smiles,
Blinding light erect over the sea.

If a sailor is the sea,
Blond amorous sea whose presence is poetry,
I don't want the city made of grey dreams;
I only want to go to the sea where I can drown,
A boat without bearing,
A body without bearing, immersing myself in its blond light.

Translated by Rick Lipinski

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Non mi pento
d' aver speso la vita
in futili amori
non ho desiderio di potenza
né conosco la fiamma dell’odio
amo la beltà dei ragazzi
la loro voce il loro riso felice.

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Σώμα, θυμήσου όχι μόνο το πόσο αγαπήθηκες,
όχι μονάχα τα κρεββάτια όπου πλάγιασες,
αλλά κ’ εκείνες τες επιθυμίες που για σένα
γυάλιζαν μες στα μάτια φανερά,
κ’ ετρέμανε μες στην φωνή — και κάποιο
τυχαίον εμπόδιο τες ματαίωσε.
Τώρα που είναι όλα πια μέσα στο παρελθόν,
μοιάζει σχεδόν και στες επιθυμίες
εκείνες σαν να δόθηκες — πώς γυάλιζαν,
θυμήσου, μες στα μάτια που σε κύτταζαν·
πώς έτρεμαν μες στην φωνή, για σε, θυμήσου, σώμα.

* * *
Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
not only the beds you lay on,
but also those desires that glowed openly
in eyes that looked at you,
trembled for you in the voices—
only some chance obstacle frustrated them.
Now that it’s all finally in the past,
it seems almost as if you gave yourself
to those desires too—how they glowed,
remember, in eyes that looked at you,
remember, body, how they trembled for you in those voices.

Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard