I don’t know how many souls I have.
I’ve changed at every moment.
I always feel like a stranger.
I’ve never seen or found myself.
From being so much, I have only soul.
A man who has soul has no calm.
A man who sees is just what he sees.
A man who feels is not who he is.
Attentive to what I am and see,
I become them and stop being I.
Each of my dreams and each desire
Belongs to whoever had it, not me.
I am my own landscape,
I watch myself journey -
Various, mobile, and alone.
Here where I am I can’t feel myself.
That’s why I read, as a stranger,
My being as if it were pages.
Not knowing what will come
And forgetting what has passed,
I note in the margin of my reading
What I thought I felt.
Rereading, I wonder: “Was that me?”
God knows, because he wrote it.
Fernando Pessoa (as himself)
Pessoa, definately one of the best poets in the 20th century. He's completely unknown outside a Portuguese spoken world. Probably my longest Portuguese love.
(I admire him almost like Zbigniew Herbert... I even read his poems aloud in Portuguese to "feel the music" of this poetry. Of course I need a translation in Polish or English to understand anything :) Maybe I will learn good Portuguese because of him :P Translating some of his poems is becoming a point of my ambition :>
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