Fernando Pessoa
Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa, mais conhecido como Fernando Pessoa, foi um poeta, filósofo e escritor português. Fernando Pessoa é o mais universal poeta português.
1888-06-13 Lisboa, Portugal
1935-11-30 Lisboa
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49 - MOOD
My thoughts are something my soul fears.
I tremble at my very glee.
Sometimes I feel arrive in me
A dim, a cold. a sad, a fierce
A lust‑like spirituality.
It makes me one with all the grass.
My life takes colour at all flowers.
The breeze that seemeth loth to pass
Shakes off red petals from my hours
And my heart sulters without showers.
Then God becomes a vice of mine
And divine feelings an embrace
That sinks my senses in its wine
And leaves no outline in my ways
Of seeing God flower, grow and shine.
My thoughts and feelings mingle and form
A vague and hot soul‑unity.
Like a sea that expects a storm,
A lazy ache and fret make me
A murmur like a coming swarm.
My parched thoughts mix and occupy
Their interpresences and swell
To each others' places. I descry
Nought in me save impossible
Mixtures of many things all I.
I am a drunkard of my thoughts.
My feelings' juice o'erruns my soul.
My will becomes soaked in them all.
Then life stagnates a dream and rots
To beauty in my verses' dole.
I tremble at my very glee.
Sometimes I feel arrive in me
A dim, a cold. a sad, a fierce
A lust‑like spirituality.
It makes me one with all the grass.
My life takes colour at all flowers.
The breeze that seemeth loth to pass
Shakes off red petals from my hours
And my heart sulters without showers.
Then God becomes a vice of mine
And divine feelings an embrace
That sinks my senses in its wine
And leaves no outline in my ways
Of seeing God flower, grow and shine.
My thoughts and feelings mingle and form
A vague and hot soul‑unity.
Like a sea that expects a storm,
A lazy ache and fret make me
A murmur like a coming swarm.
My parched thoughts mix and occupy
Their interpresences and swell
To each others' places. I descry
Nought in me save impossible
Mixtures of many things all I.
I am a drunkard of my thoughts.
My feelings' juice o'erruns my soul.
My will becomes soaked in them all.
Then life stagnates a dream and rots
To beauty in my verses' dole.
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