Paroles et traduction Camané - Bêbado pintor

Bêbado pintor

Era noite invernosa e o vento
Desabrido
Num louco galopar ferozmente
Rugia
Vergastando os pinhais
Pelos campos corria
Como um triste grilheta ao
Degredo fugido
Num antro pestilento, infame
E corrompido
Imagem de bordel, cenário de
Caverna
Vendia-se veneno à luz duma
Lanterna
À turba que se mata
Ingerindo aguardente
Estava um jovem pintor
Atrofiando a mente
Encostado sem brio ao
Balcão da taberna

Rameiras das banais, num
Doido desafio
Exploravam do artista a sua
Parca féria
E ele na embriaguez do vinho
E da miséria
Cedia às tentações daquele
Mulherio
Nem mesmo a própria luz
Nem mesmo o próprio frio
Daquele vazadouro onde se
Queima a vida
Faziam incutir à corja
Pervertida
Um sentimento bom de amor e
Compaixão
P′lo ébrio que encostava a
Fronte ao vil balcão
De nauseabunda cor e
Tábua carcomida

Encostado sem brio ao balcão
Da taberna
De nauseabunda cor e tábua
Carcomida
O bêbado pintor a lápis
Desenhou
O retrato fiel duma mulher
Perdida

Impúdica mulher, perante o
Vil bulício
De copos tilintando e de
Boçais gracejos
Agarrou-se ao rapaz, e
Cobrindo-o de beijos
Perguntou-lhe a sorrir, qual era
O seu oficio

Ele a cambalear, fazendo um
Sacrifício
Lhe diz a profissão em que se
Iniciou
Ela escutando tal
Pedindo-lhe alcançou
Que então lhe desenhasse o
Rosto provocante
E num sujo papel, as feições
Da bacante
O bêbado pintor a lápis
Desenhou

Retocou o perfil e por baixo
Escreveu
Numa legível letra o seu
Modesto nome
Que um ébrio esfarrapado
E o rosto cheio de fome
Com voz rascante e rouca à
Desgraçada leu

Esta, louca de dor, para o
Jovem correu
E beijando-lhe o rosto
Abraço-o de seguida
Era a mãe do pintor, e a
Turba comovida
Pasma ante aquele quadro
Original, e estranho
Enquanto o pobre artista
Amarfanha o desenho
O retrato fiel duma mulher
Perdida

The Drunken Painter

It was a winter night, and the wind
Unforgiving
In a mad gallop, fiercely
Roared
Whipping the pine forests
Across the fields it ran
Like a sad shackle to the
Fugitive exile
In a pestilent den, infamous
And corrupted
Image of a brothel, scenery of a
Cavern
Poison was sold by the light of a
Lantern
To the mob that kills itself
Ingesting brandy
There was a young painter
Atrophying his mind
Leaning listlessly against the
Tavern counter

Common prostitutes, in a
Crazy challenge
Exploited the artist's
Meager wages
And he, in the intoxication of wine
And misery
Yielded to the temptations of that
Womenfolk
Not even the light itself
Not even the cold itself
Of that sinkhole where life is
Burned away
Made the perverted gang feel
Perverted
A good feeling of love and
Compassion
For the drunkard who leaned his
Forehead against the vile counter
Of nauseating color and
Worm-eaten wood

Leaning listlessly against the counter
Of the tavern
Of nauseating color and wood
Worm-eaten
The drunken painter in pencil
Drew
The faithful portrait of a woman
Lost

Shameless woman, before the
Vile bustle
Of clinking glasses and
Boorish jokes
She clung to the boy, and
Covering him with kisses
She asked him with a smile, what was
His trade

He, staggering, making a
Sacrifice
Tells her the profession in which he
Started
She, listening to such
Asking him, she reached
That then he would draw her
Provocative face
And on a dirty paper, the features
Of the bacchante
The drunken painter in pencil
Drew

He retouched the profile and underneath
He wrote
In a legible letter his
Modest name
That a ragged drunkard
And his face full of hunger
With a hoarse and scratchy voice to the
Wretched woman read

She, mad with pain, to the
Young man ran
And kissing his face
She hugged him immediately
It was the painter's mother, and the
Crowd moved
Stunned by that picture
Original, and strange
While the poor artist
Ruffles the drawing
The faithful portrait of a woman
Lost