Eras na vida a pomba predileta
Que sobre um mar de angústias conduzia
O ramo da esperança. Eras a estrela
Que entre as névoas do inverno cintilava
Apontando o caminho ao pegureiro.
Eras a messe de um dourado estio.
Eras o idílio de um amor sublime.
Eras a glória, a inspiração, a pátria,
O porvir de teu pai! - Ah, no entanto,
Pomba, - varou-te a flecha do destino!
Astro, - engoliu-te o temporal do norte!
Teto, - caíste! - Crença, já não vives!
Correi, correi, oh! lágrimas saudosas,
Legado acerbo da ventura extinta,
Dúbios archotes que a tremer clareiam
A lousa fria de um sonhar que é morto!
Fagundes Varela, “Cântico do Calvário”
You were in life the favorite dove
That over a sea of sorrows carried
The branch of hope. You were the star
That amidst the mists of Winter glimmered
Pointing the way for the shepherd.
You were the harvest of a golden summer.
You were the dream of a love sublime.
You were the glory, the inspiration, the homeland,
The future for your father! - Oh, however,
Dove, - the arrow of fate transfixed you!
Star, - the north storm swallowed you!
Roof, - felled! - Faith, you live no more!
Flow, flow, oh! wistful tears,
Sour legacy of extinct fortune,
Doubtful torches that, shivering, illumine
The cold headstone of a dream that is dead!
Fagundes Varela, “Chant of the Calvary”
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