Fernando Pessoa Poems
- I Have a Terrible Cold I have a terrible cold, And everyone ...
- I Know, I Alone I know, I alone How much it hurts, this ...
- I don't know how many souls I ... I don't know how many ...
- Autopsychography The poet is a man who feigns And feigns so...
- Discontinuous Poems The frightful reality of things Is my ...
- The Herdsman I'm herdsman of a flock. The sheep are my ...
- Odes Of the gardens of Adonis, Lydia, I love Most of all ...
Fernando Pessoa, born Fernando António Nogueira Pessôa (/pɛˈsoʊə/; Portuguese: [fɨɾˈnɐ̃dw ɐ̃ˈtɔɲju nuˈɣejɾɐ pɨˈsow.wɐ]; June 13, 1888 – November 30, 1935), was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher and philosopher, described as one of the most significant literary figures of the 20th century and one of the greatest poets in the Portuguese language. He also wrote in and translated from English and French.
Pessoa was a prolific writer, and not only under his own name, for he dreamed up approximately seventy-five others. He did not call them pseudonyms because he felt that did not capture their true independent intellectual life and instead called them ... more »
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Of the gardens of Adonis, Lydia, I love
Most of all those fugitive roses
That on the day they are born,
That very day, must also die.
Eternal, for them, the light of day:
They're born when the sun is already high
And die before Apollo's course
Across the visible sky is run.
We too, of our lives, must make one day:
We never know, my Lydia, nor want
To know of nights before or after
The little while that we may last.
To be great, be whole: nothing that's you