Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Antero de Quental

THE PALACE OF FORTUNE

I dream I’m a knight who ventures forth
Through deserts, hot days, and pitch-black nights.
A defender of love, with all my might
I seek the enchanted palace of Fortune!

But I’m already faint with weariness,
My sword is broken, my armor smashed. . .
And then I suddenly see it, flashing
With pomp and lofty magnificence!

I bang on the doors and cry in distress:
“I’m the Vagabond, the Dispossessed.
Have pity and open up, golden doors!”

The golden doors open with a din. . .
But sadly all I find within
Is silence and darkness – nothing more!

O Palácio da Ventura

O Palácio da Ventura

Sonho que sou um cavaleiro andante.
Por desertos, por sóis, por noite escura,
Paladino do amor, busco anelante
O palácio encantado da Ventura!

Mas já desmaio, exausto e vacilante,
Quebrada a espada já, rota a armadura. . .
E eis que súbito o avisto, fulgurante
Na sua pompa e aérea formosura!

Com grandes golpes bato à porta e brado:
Eu sou o Vagabundo, o Deserdado. . .
Abri-vos, portas d’ouro, ante meus ais!

Abrem-se as portas d’ouro, com fragor. . .
Mas dentro encontro só, cheio de dor,
Silêncio e escuridão – e nada mais!
Close

THE PALACE OF FORTUNE

I dream I’m a knight who ventures forth
Through deserts, hot days, and pitch-black nights.
A defender of love, with all my might
I seek the enchanted palace of Fortune!

But I’m already faint with weariness,
My sword is broken, my armor smashed. . .
And then I suddenly see it, flashing
With pomp and lofty magnificence!

I bang on the doors and cry in distress:
“I’m the Vagabond, the Dispossessed.
Have pity and open up, golden doors!”

The golden doors open with a din. . .
But sadly all I find within
Is silence and darkness – nothing more!

THE PALACE OF FORTUNE

I dream I’m a knight who ventures forth
Through deserts, hot days, and pitch-black nights.
A defender of love, with all my might
I seek the enchanted palace of Fortune!

But I’m already faint with weariness,
My sword is broken, my armor smashed. . .
And then I suddenly see it, flashing
With pomp and lofty magnificence!

I bang on the doors and cry in distress:
“I’m the Vagabond, the Dispossessed.
Have pity and open up, golden doors!”

The golden doors open with a din. . .
But sadly all I find within
Is silence and darkness – nothing more!
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère