Um poema de Max Schhmoll

In a sunny day in a forest
As I went on carelessly strolling
Through filtered sunlight and tweeting birds
Tweeting birds I remember

The mind goes back to my childhood days
When I through this forest use to wander, running playing

The trees with it’s leaves still damp from early rains

To me in those days the whole world seemed much nicer
Pure much sincerer and true
I had all I wished for
A bright sun a sky of the bluest blue

Suddenly a shock, I came to a stop

In front of me stood
The dear beloved tree I much loved

The forest’s giant oak
It lay on earth, inert

How for the high heavens can such a tree die
So thick and powerful branches go dry

How many flowers grew from its hummus
How many little beasts of the forest by it’s strength were nursed
And how many birds by storm and thunder frightened nestled

That moment I clearly understood
In a dreary storm night
If such a giant with such a might,
Can so easily be torn from its roots

What chances have I
On this crude world
Full of hate and errors to survive

My thoughts had rapidly changed
My childhood past remembering quickly vanished

And they came to rest upon death
And so I asked myself
Am I prepared to face death?
Will I be courageous enough to die?

Or will I be hysterical, crying and  sobbing
In the last hour when I expire?

To be a coward
No I will not
No I will not I’ll face my last hour as of the rest
Long calm wanted, rest

I shall invite her
I shall make her my guest
I’ll treat her gentle and
Maybe give her a view clearly of life

I shall make her my friend
A sudden friend inseparable
That will lead me with strong and firm hand until the end

She will mark my hour exactly in the Death timetable.

But wait, what dark cloud cover my thoughts and  blocks my mind
Why bother with thoughts at all?
If my fate is ready traced

I shall let life, lusty  embrace me
For Death wants no friendship at all
Has she ever  spared one at all?

What dark clouds covered my thoughts what morbidity traced my mind
In such a sunny spring day in this forest
As I go on carelessly strolling
Through it’s filtered sunlight and tweeting birds
Tweeting birds as these.

Max Schhmoll


A tradução do poema, por Marilena de Moraes, pode ser lida aqui.