February 25, 2002

• This
  
  They say I pretend or lie
  All I write. No such thing.
  It simply is that I
  Feel by imagining.
  I don’t use the heart-string.
  
  All that I dream or lose,
  That falls short or dies on me,
  Is like a terrace which looks
  On another thing beyond.
  It’s that thing leads me on.
  
  And so I write in the middle
  Of things not next one’s feet,
  Free from my own muddle,
  Concerned for what is not.
  Feel? Let the reader feel!
  
  
  (?1933)
  
  ‘Selected Poems’  translated from  Fernando Pessoa by J.Griffin.

  
  

  

  
  

  
   

  • 10:23 pm
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