Someone toils all his
life making money saving every penny
but has no children to give to.
And no hope the heaven will
bring him the riches after his death.
Another one labors to be
famous, to be remembered after death
but doesn't believe his soul will
live to tell him of his fame.
And another one wears himself to
death, doing things he abhors.
And there is someone who.....
***
A rendering of a page from
Fernando Pessoa's ‘Livro do Desassossego'
pp 113 (163)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem