Lacrimae rerum

Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.
Há lágrimas nas próprias coisas
e as coisas da morte tocam-nos a alma.

Eneida, I. 462 | Publius Vergilius Maro (70 a.C.–19 a.C.)

© [m.m. botelho]
© [m.m. botelho] | esquisso | 2006
lápis de carvão staedtler lumograph hb
traçado ao som de «Flow my Tears» | John Dowland (1563-1626)
Alfred Deller, contratenor | Robert Spence, alaúde | The Consort of Six | Harmonia Mundi

Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn;
Where night's black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.

Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those
That in despair their lost fortunes deplore.
Light doth but shame disclose.

Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pity is fled;
And tears and sighs and groans my weary days
Of all joys have deprived.

From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is thrown;
And fear and grief and pain for my deserts
Are my hopes, since hope is gone.

Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell,
Learn to contemn light
Happy, happy they that in hell
Feel not the world's despite.