| D.DINIZ |
| Na
noite escreve um seu Cantar de Amigo o
plantador de naus a haver, e
ouve um silêncio múrmuro comsigo: é
o rumor dos pinhaes que, como um trigo de
Império, ondulam sem se poder ver.
Arroio,
esse cantar, jovem e puro, busca
o oceano por achar; e
a falla dos pinhaes, marulho obscuro, é
o som presente desse mar futuro, é
a voz da terra anciando pelo mar. |
| Comentários: No século XIII a Europa estava deflorestada após séculos de exploração selvagem das florestas primevas. D.Dinis levou a cabo um vasto plano de reflorestação através do plantio de matas reais de pinheiros bravos. A madeira foi depois utilizada na construção das caravelas das Descobertas, o que é o tema deste belo oitavo poema da Mensagem. "Cantar de Amigo"- poema medieval, cantado pelos trovadores. D.Dinis escreveu vários destes cantares. "silêncio murmuro"- silêncio murmurante. "arroio"- riacho; "marulho"- som do mar. |
| An introduction to the poem: In the XIII century Portugal, as well as large parts of Europe, lay deforested by centuries of wild exploration of the natural resources. Unlike his predecessors, King Dinis inherited a land now totally under Christian control. A learned man- he wrote poetry of the sort that was sang by troubadours and founded an university in Lisbon- he reigned in peace with his neighbours and laid the foundations of a prosperity yet to come. He ordered the planting of wide expanses of territory with pine trees that became afterwards the most common wood-supplying tree in Portugal. By Prince Henry's time the oldest of those trees were large enough to supply wood for the keels and masts of the caravels and it was this "seeding of Empire" that earned King Dinis his place in Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem as one of the pillars of the Portuguese Age of Exploration. King Dinis In
the night, the planter of ships-yet-to-be Writes
one of his troubadour's poems
And he listens to a murmuring silence within him:
It is the whisper of the pine groves which,
Like a cornfield of Empire, undulate unseen.
Like a brook, that song, young and pure,
Searches out the ocean-to-be-found;
And the talk of the pine groves, dull rumble,
Is the present sound of that future ocean,
Is the call of the land yearning for the sea.
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