Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Sonnets in English by Fernando Pessoa

III.

When I do think my meanest line shall be
More in Time's use than my creating whole,
That future eyes more clearly shall feel me
In this inked page than in my direct soul;
When I conjecture put to make me seeing
Good readers of me in some aftertime,
Thankful to some idea of my being
That doth not even my with gone true soul rime;
An anger at the essence of the world,
That makes this thus, or thinkable this wise,
Takes my soul by the throat and makes it hurled
In nightly horrors of despaired surmise,
       And I become the mere sense of a rage
       That lacks the very words whose waste might 'suage.

5 comments:

  1. Fernando Pessoa, in 'Songbook'

    Freedom

    Oh what a pleasure
    Not fulfill a duty,
    Having a book to read
    And not doing it!
    To read is a bore,
    To study is nothing.
    The sun shines
    Without literature
    The river flows, good or bad,
    Without original edition.
    And the breeze, that one,
    Is so naturally matutinal,
    As time has no hurry...

    Books are papers painted with ink.
    To study is a thing that is indistinct
    The distinction between anything and nothing.

    So much better, as there is fog,
    To wait for King Sebastian,
    Whether he comes or not!

    Great is poetry, the kindness and the dances...
    But the world's best are the children,

    Flowers, music, the moonlight and the sun, who sins
    Only when, instead of creating, dries.

    More than that
    It is Jesus Christ,
    Who knew nothing about finance
    And there is no evidence that he had a library...

    ReplyDelete
  2. My Heart Weighs
    Good. I have done. My heart weighs. I am sad.
    The outer day, void statue of lit blue,
    Is altogether outward, other, glad
    At mere being not-I (so my aches construe).
    I, that have failed in everything, bewail
    Nothing this hour but that I have bewailed,
    For in the general fate what is't to fail?
    Why, fate being past for Fate, 'tis but to have failed.
    Whatever hap or stop, what matters it,
    Sith to the mattering our will bringeth nought?
    With the higher trifling let us world our wit,
    Conscious that, if we do't, that was the lot
    The regular stars bound us to, when they stood
    Godfathers to our birth and to our blood.

    Fernando Pessoa, in 'English Poetry - 35 sonnets'

    ReplyDelete
  3. Fernando Pessoa, in 'Songbook'

    Freedom

    Oh what a pleasure
    Not fulfill a duty,
    Having a book to read
    And not doing it!
    To read is a bore,
    To study is nothing.
    The sun shines
    Without literature
    The river flows, good or bad,
    Without original edition.
    And the breeze, that one,
    Is so naturally matutinal,
    As time has no hurry...

    Books are papers painted with ink.
    To study is a thing that is indistinct
    The distinction between anything and nothing.

    So much better, as there is fog,
    To wait for King Sebastian,
    Whether he comes or not!

    Great is poetry, the kindness and the dances...
    But the world's best are the children,

    Flowers, music, the moonlight and the sun, who sins
    Only when, instead of creating, dries.

    More than that
    It is Jesus Christ,
    Who knew nothing about finance
    And there is no evidence that he had a library...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks for sharing this best stuff with us! Keep sharing! The author clearly describe all the parts of the article with good language and information.I am very happy to see this type article.

    ReplyDelete
  5. 'That future eyes more clearly shall feel me
    In this inked page than in my direct soul;' This is an absolutely amazing line about the significance of the author in poetry!

    ReplyDelete