quinta-feira, 22 de dezembro de 2011

"Partes" e "todos"




Olá compreensivos seguidores!
Como prometido posto o trailer com legenda, basta clicar em CC.
E aproveitando o ensejo, segue abaixo a transcrição do canto (Howard Shore definitivamente se superou com esta melodia) de Thorin, Escudo de Caravalho, que nada mais é que o trecho do poema de J. R. R. Tolkien, presente no livro O Hobbit, chamado, se não estiver errado (sinalizem se estiver), Over The Misty Mountains Cold.
Em I está o canto em inglês, em II a tradução do trailer, em III o poema na íntegra em inglês e em IV a tradução "oficial".
Creio que irão ver muita tristeza, mágoa, força e, o melhor, o abandono da resignação.



Over The Misty Mountains Cold
Sung by Richard Armitage and other dwarfs

Far over, the misty mountains call 
To dungeons deep and caverns old 
The pines were roaring on the heights 
The winds were moaning in the night 
The fire was red it's flames spread 
The trees like torches blaze with light


II
Além das frias montanhas sombrias
Tradução

Lá além, nas frias montanhas sombrias 
Calabouços profundos e velhas cavernas 
Os pinheiros rugem nas altitudes 
Os ventos murmuram na noite 
O fogo era vermelho, e suas chamas se difundiram 
As árvores eram tais como tochas inflamadas com luz 


III 
Over The Misty Mountains Cold 
J. R. R. Tolkien

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling—on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!


IV
Tradução do poema no livro
A. Pisetta

Para além das montanhas nebulosas, frias,
Adentrando cavernas, calabouços cravados,
Devemos partir antes de o sol surgir,
Em busca do pálido ouro encantado.
Operavam encantos anões de outrora,
Ao som de martelo qual sino a soar
Na profundeza onde dorme a incerteza,
Em antros vazios sob penhascos do mar. 
Para o antigo rei e seu elfo senhor
Criaram tesouros de grã nomeada,
As Pedras plasmaram, a luz captaram 
Prendendo-a nas gemas do punho da espada.
Em colares de Prata eles juntaram
Estrelas floridas fizeram corôas
De fogo dragão e no mesmo cordão
Fundiram a luz do sol e da lua.
Para além das montanhas nebulosas frias, 
Adentrando cavernas calabouços perdidos
Devemos partir antes de o sol surgir
Buscando tesouros há muito esquecidos.
Para seu uso taças foram talhadas 
E harpas de ouro. Onde ninguém mora 
Jazeram Perdidas e suas cantigas
Por homens e elfos não foram ouvidas 
Zumbiram Pinheiros sobre a montanha, 
Uivaram os ventos em noites azuis.
O fogo vermelho queimava Parelho, 
As árvores-tochas em fachos de luz.
Tocaram os sinos chovendo no vale, 
Erguiam-se Pálidos rostos ansiosos. 
Irado o dragão feroz se insurgira
Arrasando casas e torres formosas 
Sob a luz da lua furavam montanhas 
Os anões ouviram a marcha final
Fugiram do abrigo achando o inimigo 
E sob seus pés a morte ao luar.
Para além das montanhas nebulosas frias, 
Adentrando cavernas calabouços perdidos
Devemos partir antes de o sol surgir, 
Buscando tesouros há muito esquecidos.  

2 comentários:

Marcel AJ disse...

Aguardemos até Dezembro/2012 ansiosamente!

Naiana P. Freitas disse...

Eduardo, Realmente, quanto ao tamanho os poemas divergem, mas para saber ao certo somente um estudo mais aprofundado e comparativo...traduzir é uma labuta inclui uma série de meandros..abraço apertado!!
:)