PHRASES

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Fernando Pessoa (AlbertoCaieiro, Alvaro de Campos, Ricardo Reis) (Portugal)

I will never be nothing

I can not want to be nothing

In spite of this, I have into myself all the dreams of the world.

( Tabacaria - 1928)

A rainy day is so beautiful as a sunny day.

Both of them exist, each one like it is.

(Poemas Inconjuntos-1915)

Where there are people in this world?

So, it is only me that are vile and wrong in this earth?

(Poema em Linha Reta - 1935)

 But I don't want the present, I want the reality;

Because is the things that exist, don't the time that measures it..

(Ficçõesdo Interlúdio - 1920)

And it is difficult to explain to somebody how much it makes me happy,

And how much it is enough for me. It is enough to exist to be complete.

(Ficções do Interlúdio - 1915)

They walked through my light like the earth go trough the tail of a comet; without knowing.

(Antonello - Poemas de Bilu - 1928/1929)

Because I don't know how to make walls around myself.

I think of the lives that will come.

I want the goodness and the badness.

Who put this incurable light into my eyes?

Morning.

The pale star died.

(Bilu - Poemas de Bilu- 1928/1929)

in all the plenitude the power of the puerile's spirit;

only a grown man can understand the bad of no more to be a child.

(Cêrro D'Árvore)

And it was like this, that I discover the men don't be (I tell this in secret, poor men...).

In the beginning I thought that only myself doesn't be. Now I understand:

The superman have a worm's illness, hope citizen.

The hero is a gigolo. The apostle is fat. The martyr is an art. And the poet is only this yet.

(Discurso do Zaori)

At the corners of the world, reverenced

On its wonderful typography,

To the new poets of America, to the ones

That someday will to weave at the hoarse loom

interrupted

The meaning of the tomorrow.

(Testamento - Canto Geral)

You are desert America, like a bell:

Full, at the inside, of a song that don't aloud,

The shepherd, the llanero, the fisherman

Doesn't have a hand, nor a ear, nor a piano,

Nor a face near: the moon look to them,

The extension make them bigger, the night look at them,

And an old day slowly, like the others, born.

(Patagônia)

The dead men that fought. Each ear gives a grain

To the ground,

And like the wheat, the countless people

Keep roots, keep ears,

And at the torment unleashed

Grows up the shine of the universe.

(Chegará o Dia)

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