The Captive - Luís Gama

The poem A Cativa by the Afro-Brazilian poet and abolitionist Luis Gama.

Uma graça viva Nos olhos lhe mora, Para ser senhora De quem é cativa. (Camões)

​In her eyes lives A living grace, To be the lady of whose she is captive (Camões)

​Como era linda, meu Deus! Não tinha da neve a cor, Mas no moreno semblante Brilhavam raios de amor. Ledo o rosto, o mais formoso, De trigueira coralina, De Anjo à boca, os lábios breves Cor de pálida cravina*. Em carmim rubro engastados Tinha os dentes cristalinos; Doce a voz, qual nunca ouvira, Dúlios bardos matutinos. Seus ingênuos pensamentos São de amor juras constantes; Entre a nuvem das pestanas Tinha dois astros brilhantes. As madeixas crespas, negras, Sobre o seio lhe pendiam, Onde os castos pomos de ouro Amorosos se escondiam, Tinha o colo acetinado – Era o corpo uma pintura – E no peito palpitante Um sacrário de ternura. Límpida alma, flor singela Pelas brisas embaladas, Ao dormir d’alvas estrelas, As nascer da madrugada. Quis beijar-lhe as mãos divinas, Afastou-mas – não consente; A seus pés de rojo pus-me – Tanto pode o amor ardente! Não te afastes, lhe suplico, És do meu peito rainha; Não te afastes, neste peito Tens um trono, mulatinha!... Vi-lhe as pálpebras tremerem, Como treme a flor louçã, Embalando as níveas gotas Dos orvalhos da manhã. Qual na rama enlanguecida Pudibunda sensitiva, Suspirando ela murmura; Ai, senhor, eu sou cativa!... Deu-me as costas, foi-se embora Qual da tarde do arrebol Foge a sombra de uma nuvem Ao cair da luz do sol.

How beautiful she was, my God! She didn't have the color of snow, But in her dark countenance Rays of love shone. Joyful face, the most beautiful, in the color of ripe wheat and coral, From Angel to the mouth, the brief lips in the color of pale Chinese pink. Jammed in crimson, Her teeth were crystals; Sweet voice, such as I had never heard, Dulian morning bards. Your naive thoughts Are constant vows of love; Among the cloud of eyelashes There were two bright stars. The coily black hair hung over her breast, Where the chaste loving golden apples hid, Her neck was satin-gloss – Her body was a painting – And in her throbbing chest A tabernacle of tenderness. Clear soul, simple flower cradled by the breezes when the white stars sleep, At dawn. I wanted to kiss her divine hands, She pushed them away – there was no consent; At her feet, I suddenly fell – So much can the passionate love! Don't go away, I beg you, You are my chest, queen; Don't go away, in this chest You have a throne, little mulatta!... I saw her eyelids tremble, As an adorned flower trembles, cradling the snowy drops Of morning dew. Which on the languid branch Sensitive and flushed, Sighing she murmurs; Oh lord, I'm a captive!... She turned her back on me and walked away Like the afterglow of the afternoon Fless from the shadow of a cloud When the sunlight falls.

*Cravina - flower know as Chinese Pink (Dianthus chinesis)

Note: The English version available in this post is a loose translation from the original text.

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About The Poet

Luís Gama (1830-1882) was an important Brazilian black intellectual of the 19th century. Lawyer and writer, he is regarded as the Patron of the Abolition of Slavery in Brazil and is considered by many to be the greatest abolitionist in our nation. Born of a free black mother and a white father, he was nevertheless made a slave at the age of 10, and remained illiterate until he was 17 years old. Twelve years after learning to read and write, he writes his first work. His writing is in the first person, without hiding his own origin and without ceasing to proclaim his blackness.