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
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42 - THE FORESELF
I had a self and life
Before this life and self.
When the moon makes woods rife
With possible fay or elf,
There comes in me a dreaming
That is like a light gleaming
Somewhere in me away,
On seas that I have known
And placeless lands that own
Another kind of day.
I dream, and as a blast
Fans into fire an ember,
My heart gleams with a past
That I cannot remember.
And as the ember's glowing
Is not fire but fire's showing,
I waste the empty pelf
Of my mute sense of me.
As rain within the sea
I fade within myself.
There are mazes of I.
I am my unknown being.
I have, I know not why,
Another kind of seeing
(Other than this vain vision
That is my soul's division
From what girds sight about)
Where to see is to know,
Whose life is faith, and woe
Fled by the hand of Doubt.
My life has happy hours:
'Tis when I feel not living;
And, as the scent of flowers
Round flowers a flower‑soul weaving
That is a corporate spirit,
From myself I inherit,
My soul's blood's spirit‑air,
A foreself and inself
Which is the being‑pelf
That with God's loss I share.
Before this life and self.
When the moon makes woods rife
With possible fay or elf,
There comes in me a dreaming
That is like a light gleaming
Somewhere in me away,
On seas that I have known
And placeless lands that own
Another kind of day.
I dream, and as a blast
Fans into fire an ember,
My heart gleams with a past
That I cannot remember.
And as the ember's glowing
Is not fire but fire's showing,
I waste the empty pelf
Of my mute sense of me.
As rain within the sea
I fade within myself.
There are mazes of I.
I am my unknown being.
I have, I know not why,
Another kind of seeing
(Other than this vain vision
That is my soul's division
From what girds sight about)
Where to see is to know,
Whose life is faith, and woe
Fled by the hand of Doubt.
My life has happy hours:
'Tis when I feel not living;
And, as the scent of flowers
Round flowers a flower‑soul weaving
That is a corporate spirit,
From myself I inherit,
My soul's blood's spirit‑air,
A foreself and inself
Which is the being‑pelf
That with God's loss I share.
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