Ariadne was wandering distraught along the lonely wave-beaten shores of Naxos.
Scarce had sleep departed from her eyes, and she wore but an airy shift;
her feet were bare and her fair tresses were blowing about her shoulders.
To the heedless billows she was crying wildly for her Theseus,
and tears flowed in torrents down her cheeks.
She cried aloud and wept at the same time.
But both enhanced her beauty.
"Oh, the faithless one," she cried, beating her tender bosom again and again,
"he has abandoned me. Oh, what will become of me! What will be my fate!"
She spake. And on a sudden, drums and cymbals
beaten and tossed by frenzied hands resounded along the shore.
Stricken with terror, she fell gasping out a few broken words,
and the blood faded from her lifeless corpse.
But lo, the Mænads, with their hair floating wildly out behind them,
and the light-footed Satyrs, the rout that leads the procession of Apollo,
came upon the scene. Behold, old Silenus, reeling-ripe as usual,
who can scarce keep his seat on the ass that staggers beneath the heavy burden.
He pursues the Mænads, who flee from him and mock him as they flee,
and as he belabours his long-eared beast with his staff,
the unskilful cavalier tumbles head-foremost from his steed.
And all the Satyrs shout, "Up with you, old man Silenus, up with you again!"
Meanwhile from his lofty chariot with vine branches all bedecked,
the god, handling the golden reins, drives on his team of tigers.
The girl, in losing Theseus, had lost her colour and her voice.
Thrice she attempted flight, thrice did fear paralyse her steps;
she shuddered, she trembled like the tapering stem or the slender reed that sways at the slightest breath.
"Banish all thy fears," cried the god. "In me thou findest a tenderer, more faithful lover than Theseus. Daughter of Minos, thou shalt be the bride of Bacchus. Thy guerdon shall be a dwelling in the sky; thou shalt be a new star and thy bright diadem shall be a guide to the pilot uncertain of his course." So saying he leapt from his chariot lest his tigers should affright her. The sand yielded beneath his feet. Clasping to his breast the swooning, unresisting girl, he bore her away. For a god may do as he wills, and who shall say him nay.
http://www.sacred-texts.com/cla/ovid/lboo/lboo58.htm
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Fica...
Preguiça?
tem também assim, preguiça tripla:
http://www.tonykline.co.uk/PITBR/Latin/ArtofLoveBkI.htm#_Toc521049265
The frantic Cretan girl wandered the unknown sands,
that the waters of tiny sea-borne Dia showed.
Just as she was, from sleep, veiled by her loose robe,
barefoot, with her yellow hair unbound,
she called, for cruel Theseus, to the unhearing waves,
her gentle cheeks wet with tears of shame.
She called, and wept as well, but both became her,
she was made no less beautiful by her tears.
Now striking her sweet breast with her hands, again and again,
she cried: ‘That faithless man’s gone: what of me, now?
What will happen to me?’ she cried: and the whole shore
echoed to the sound of cymbals and frenzied drums.
She fainted in terror, her next words were stifled:
no sign of blood in her almost lifeless body.
Behold! The Bacchantes with loose streaming hair:
Behold! The wanton Satyrs, a crowd before the god:
Behold! Old Silenus, barely astride his swaybacked mule,
clutching tightly to its mane in front.
While he pursues the Bacchae, the Bacchae flee and return,
as the rascal urges the mount on with his staff.
He slips from his long-eared mule and falls headfirst:
the Satyrs cry: ‘Rise again, father, rise,’
Now the God in his chariot, wreathed with vines,
curbing his team of tigers, with golden reins:
the girl’s voice and colour and Theseus all lost:
three times she tried to run, three times fear held her back.
She shook, like a slender stalk of wheat stirred by the wind,
and trembled like a light reed in a marshy pool.
To whom the god said: ‘See, I come, more faithful in love:
have no fear: Cretan, you’ll be bride to Bacchus.
Take the heavens for dowry: be seen as heavenly stars:
and guide the anxious sailor often to your Cretan Crown.’
He spoke, and leapt from the chariot, lest she feared
his tigers: the sand yielded under his feet:
clasped in his arms (she had no power to struggle),
he carried her away: all’s easily possible to a god.
E que tal en français?
http://bcs.fltr.ucl.ac.be/OVID/AAi.html
Ariane errait éperdue sur les plages désertes de l'île de Naxos, toujours battue des flots de la mer. À peine échappée au sommeil, elle n'était vêtue que d'une tunique flottante; [1,530] ses pieds étaient nus, sa blonde chevelure flottait en désordre sur ses épaules, et des torrents de larmes inondaient ses joues : elle redemandait aux flots le cruel Thésée; les flots restaient sourds à ses cris. Elle criait et pleurait à la fois; mais (heureux privilège de la beauté !) ses cris et ses pleurs ajoutaient encore à ses charmes. "Le perfide ! disait-elle en se frappant le sein, il me fuit ! que vais-je devenir ? hélas ! quel sera mon sort ?"
Elle dit; et soudain les cymbales et les tambours qu'agitent des mains frénétiques font retentir au loin le rivage. Frappée d'effroi, elle tombe en prononçant quelques mots entrecoupés, [1,540] et son sang a fui de ses veines glacées. Mais voici venir les Bacchantes échevelées et les Satyres légers, avant-coureurs du dieu des vendanges; voici le vieux Silène, toujours ivre : suspendu à la crinière de son âne, qui plie sous le faix, il peut à peine se soutenir. Tandis qu'il poursuit les Bacchantes, qui fuient et l'agacent en même temps, et qu'il presse du bâton les flancs du quadrupède aux longues oreilles, l'inhabile cavalier tombe la tête la première. Aussitôt les Satyres de lui crier : "Relevez-vous, père Silène, relevez-vous ! "
Cependant, du haut de son char couronné de pampres, le dieu guide avec des rênes d'or les tigres qu'il a domptés. Ariane, en perdant Thésée, a perdu la couleur et la voix : [1,550] trois fois elle veut fuir, trois fois la crainte enchaîne ses pas; elle frémit, elle tremble, comme la paille légère ou les roseaux flexibles qu'agite le moindre vent. Mais le dieu : "Bannis, lui dit-il, toute frayeur; tu retrouves en moi un amant plus tendre, plus fidèle que Thésée : fille de Minos , tu seras l'épouse de Bacchus. Pour récompense je t'offre le ciel; astre nouveau, ta couronne brillante y servira de guide au pilote incertain." À ces mots, il s'élance de son char dont les tigres auraient pu effrayer Ariane; la terre s'incline sous ses pas; pressant sur son sein la princesse éperdue, il l'enlève. Et comment eût-elle résisté ? [1,560] un dieu ne peut-il pas tout ce qu'il veut ?
Era uma vez um triguilinho preguiçoso, deitado em sua rede apenas traduzia no ouvido das meninas a medida que recebia sua comida: cafunés, beijinhos e bebida.
Nham...
Ia responder qdo tivesse postagem nova. sim, estou bêbada e agora vou dormir.
beijo violento com sabor de marrasquino
Para um trigue-preguiça, ou Ivan, Gunaimanes:
Ariadne estava a vagar enlouquecida ao longo da solitária costa de Naxos.
Teve o escasso sono apartado de seus olhos, e ela desgastou-se porém uma vã mudança;
seus pés despidos e seus cabelos longos e claros estavam sobre seus ombros.
Na direção das caóticas ondas ela chorou descontroladamente por seu Teseu
e suas lágrimas fluíam em torrentes face abaixo.
Ela gritou e pranteou ao mesmo tempo.
Mas ambos realçaram sua beleza.
“Ó, o infiel”, ela gritou batendo repetidamente no seu delicado peito,
“Ele me abandonou. Ó, que será de mim! O que será do meu destino!”
Ela falou. Repentinamente, tambores e címbalos
batidos e agitados pelas frenéticas mãos, ressoados por toda a costa.
Atacada pelo terror, ela caiu arfando algumas palavras incompletas
e o sangue desvaneceu-se de seu apático corpo.
Mas veja só, as Mênades, com seus cabelos flutuando selvagemente para trás
e os iluminados Sátiros, a confusão que causa a procissão de Apolo
atacou a cena. Olhe, o velho Sileno, cambaleando como de costume
mal sustenta seu traseiro sobre o burro que vacila com o pesado fardo.
Ele persegue as Mênades, que fogem e zombam dele, assim elas fogem
e assim, com seu bando, ele ridiculariza sua longa orelha de besta,
o desajeitado cavaleiro desaba de cabeça do seu corcel.
E todos os Sátiros bradam, “Acima contigo, velho Sileno, acima contigo outra vez!
Entretanto do alto de sua carruagem toda adornada com ramos de videiras,
o deus, segurando as douradas rédeas, conduz sua equipe de tigres.
A moça, em Teseu, perdeu sua cor e sua voz.
Três vezes ela tentou lutar, três vezes o medo paralisou seus passos.
Ela estremeceu, ela tremeu como o fino caule ou o esguio junco que oscila à mais leve respiração
“Banes todos teus medo”, gritou o deus. “Em mim tu encontrarás uma oferta, amante mais fiel que Teseu.
Filha de Minos, serás a noiva de Baco. Tua recompensa será uma residência
no céu; serás a nova estrela e teu brilhante diadema será o guia do piloto incerto
de seu curso”. Assim dizendo saltou de sua carruagem para que seus tigres não a assustassem. A areia
rendida abaixo dos seus pés. Apertando em seu peito a fraca moça, sem resistir, ele a levou embora.
Para um deus que faz como bem deseja, quem lhe dirá não.
Correções?
Uma gafonhota.
http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Mythology/RM/AriadneJohnVanderlyn.jpg
thank you, sweet one :*
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