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
3789576
158
2900
18 - SUMMER MOMENTS
SUMMER MOMENTS
I
The sky is blue
The glad grass green.
My sad eyes woo
The alien scene.
O could my heart
Partake of it
And feel no smart
Feeling life flit!
I have no home,
No hours save pain.
Sweet breezes, come
Into my brain!
Great river so
Quiet and true,
Teach me to go
Through life like you!
I have no rest.
My flowers have faded.
What was that quest
My will evaded?
Even what I wish
I care not for.
My heart is rich
And my love poor.
O golden day,
Come into me
And my soul ray
With sunlit glee!
Let me be merely
A window-pane
You pass through, clearly
A warmed no-pain.
I faint and shiver
Hearing life come.
O passing river,
Where is my home?
O happy hours
That the fields wear,
Fresh summer showers!
O my despair!
O glad horizons!
O happy hills!
What pain imprisons
My struggling wills?
What is between
Myself and me?
What should have been
Lest this should be?
My life no more
Ever to be
Than a lone shore
Struck by the sea!
What fate, what power
Of dark despair
Makes each fair hour
Taste as not fair?
O for some rest!
Give me a home,
A hope, a nest
Not to stray from!
Somewhere in life
Sure there must be
Something not strife
Waiting for me.
Lead me to it,
O happy day!
Make my heart fit
Thy going away!
Wake me the hopes
At least, though false.
My spirit gropes
Round prison-walls.
Low voice of streams,
Sweet summer's wife –
Why made I dreams
My only life?
I
The sky is blue
The glad grass green.
My sad eyes woo
The alien scene.
O could my heart
Partake of it
And feel no smart
Feeling life flit!
I have no home,
No hours save pain.
Sweet breezes, come
Into my brain!
Great river so
Quiet and true,
Teach me to go
Through life like you!
I have no rest.
My flowers have faded.
What was that quest
My will evaded?
Even what I wish
I care not for.
My heart is rich
And my love poor.
O golden day,
Come into me
And my soul ray
With sunlit glee!
Let me be merely
A window-pane
You pass through, clearly
A warmed no-pain.
I faint and shiver
Hearing life come.
O passing river,
Where is my home?
O happy hours
That the fields wear,
Fresh summer showers!
O my despair!
O glad horizons!
O happy hills!
What pain imprisons
My struggling wills?
What is between
Myself and me?
What should have been
Lest this should be?
My life no more
Ever to be
Than a lone shore
Struck by the sea!
What fate, what power
Of dark despair
Makes each fair hour
Taste as not fair?
O for some rest!
Give me a home,
A hope, a nest
Not to stray from!
Somewhere in life
Sure there must be
Something not strife
Waiting for me.
Lead me to it,
O happy day!
Make my heart fit
Thy going away!
Wake me the hopes
At least, though false.
My spirit gropes
Round prison-walls.
Low voice of streams,
Sweet summer's wife –
Why made I dreams
My only life?
3721
1