POET Poem by Teixeira de Pascoaes

When the first tear welled up
In my eyes, divine clarity
Lit up my village homeland
With the sad light of longing.

How I glow, poor humble things,
As sorrow in your darkness. . .
I am, in the future, time past.
In me, old times are new ages.

I'm a mountain cliff, an astral
Mist, a figment in the morning,
The earthen image of a soul.

I'm man fleeing from himself,
A raving phantom, a living mystery,
God's delirium, dreams, nothingness.