Palavras do Oriente

 

Se não soubesse a data deste poema, tão vívido, pensava ter sido escrito, hoje mesmo, pois a experiência que relata ainda é tal qual. A diferença é que o palácio dourado existe em muitos sítios e casas e não é um privilégio real. Sentimos a atmosfera de conforto e abundância, o brilho, o calor do vinho e o cheiro do tabaco numa noite bem passada entre família ou amigos. Um poema epicurista.

THE GOLDEN PALACE

Anon. (first century b.c.)

We go to the Golden Palace:We set out the jade cups.We summon the honoured guestsTo enter at the Golden Gate.They enter at the Golden GateAnd go to the Golden Hall.In the Eastern Kitchen the meat is sliced and ready—Roast beef and boiled pork and mutton.The Master of the Feast hands round the wine.The harp-players sound their clear chords.

The cups are pushed aside and we face each other at chess:The rival pawns are marshalled rank against rank.The fire glows and the smoke puffs and curls;From the incense-burner rises a delicate fragrance.The clear wine has made our cheeks red;Round the table joy and peace prevail.May those who shared in this day’s delightThrough countless autumns enjoy like felicity.
from, A Hundred and seventy Chinese poems, translated by Arthur Waley