Fernando Pessoa Quotes

It's not demons (who at least have a human face) but Hell itself that seems to be laughing inside me, it's the croaking madness of the dead universe, the spinning cadaver of physical space, the end of all worlds blowing blackly in the wind, formless and timeless, without a God who created it, without even its own self, impossibly whirling in the absolute darkness as the one and only reality, everything.

To live a dispassionate and cultured life in the open air of ideas, reading, dreaming and thinking of writing — a life so slow it constantly verges on tedium, but pondered enough never to find itself there. To live this life far from emotions and thought, living it only in the thought of emotions and in the emotion of thoughts. To goldenly stagnate in the sun, like a murky pond surrounded by flowers. To possess, in the shade, that nobility of spirit that makes no demands on life. To be in the whirl of the worlds like dust of flowers, sailing through the afternoon air on an unknown wind and falling, in the torpor of dusk, wherever it falls, lost among larger things. To be this with a sure understanding, neither happy nor sad, grateful to the sun for its brilliance and to the stars for their remoteness. To be no more, have no more, want no more... The music of the hungry beggar, the song of the blind man, the relic of the unknown wayfarer, the tracks in the desert of the camel without burden or destination...

PROCRASTINATION

The day after tomorrow, yes, only the day after tomorrow ...
Tomorrow I'll start thinking about the day after tomorrow,
Maybe I could do it then; but not today ...
No, nothing today; today I can't.
The confused persistence of my objective subjectivity,
The sleep of my real life, intercalated,
Anticipated, infinite weariness — I'm worlds too weary to catch a trolley — That kind of soul ...
Only the day after tomorrow ...
Today I want to prepare,
I want to prepare myself for tomorrow, when I'll think about the next day ...
That'd be decisive.
I've already got the plans sketched out, but no, today I'm not making any
plans ...
Tomorrow's the day for plans.
Tomorrow I'll sit down at my desk to conquer the world;
But I'll only conquer the world the day after tomorrow ...
I feel like crying,
I suddenly feel like crying a lot, inside ...
That's all you're getting today, it's a secret, I'm not talking.
Only the day after tomorrow ...
When I was a kid the Sunday circus diverted me every week.
Today all that diverts me is the Sunday circus from all the weeks of my
childhood ...
The day after tomorrow I'll be someone else,
My life will triumph,
All my real qualities — intelligent, well-read, practical — Will be gathered together in a public notice ...
But the public notice will go up tomorrow ...
Today I want to sleep, I'll make a fair copy tomorrow ...
For today, what show will repeat my childhood to me?
Even if I buy tickets tomorrow,
The show would still really be the day after tomorrow ...
Not before ...
The day after tomorrow I'll have the public pose I will have practiced
tomorrow.
The day after tomorrow I'll finally be what I could never be today.
Only the day after tomorrow ...
I'm sleepy as a stray dog's chill.
I'm really sleepy.
Tomorrow I'll tell you everything, or the day after tomorrow ...
Yes, maybe only the day after tomorrow ...
By and by ...
Yes, the old by and by ...

These are Fortunate Islands, These are lands without a place

Oh Portugal, today you are fog... The Hour has come!

I'll disappear in the fog as a foreigner to all life, as a human island detached from the dream of the sea, as a uselessly existing ship that floats on the surface of everything.

Hay metáforas más reales que las personas que pasan por la calle. Hay imágenes en los rincones de los libros que viven más nítidamente que muchos hombres y mujeres. Hay frases literarias que tienen una personalidad absolutamente humana. Hay fragmentos de párrafos míos que me hielan de pavor, de tal modo los siento claramente como seres humanos, tan bien perfilados contra las paredes de mi cuarto, por la noche, en la sombra. He escrito frases cuyo sonido -es imposible ocultar su sonido-, es absolutamente el de una cosa que ganó exterioridad absoluta y alma por completo.

I wander as I walk straight ahead. When it's time, I show up at the office like everyone else. When it's not time, I go to the river to gaze at the river, like everyone else. I'm no different. And behind all this, O sky my sky, I secretly constellate and have my infinity.

I am nothing,
Never shall be anything.
Cannot will to be anything,
This apart, I have in me, all the dreams of the world.

أن نعرف من نحن ليس شأننا نحن، لأن ما نفكره وما نحسه هو دائمًا ترجمة ما، ما نريده لم يكن موضع رغبتنا. أن أعرف هذا كله في كل دقيقة، أن أحس هذا كله في كل إحساس، ألن يكون معناه أن أكون أجنبيًا داخل روحي ذاتها، منفيًا في أحاسيسي الخاصة؟

Original: O olfacto é uma vista estranha. Evoca paisagens sentimentais por um desenhar súbito do subconsciente.

أنا أرثي حال النجوم
التي تشع منذ هذا القدر الكبير من السنين
هذا القدر من السنين ...
أنا أرثي حال النجوم.
أليس هناك أيّ تعب
في الأشياء،
في جميع الأشياء ،
مثل تعب السيقان والمناكب ؟
التعب من الكينونة،
من الوجود،
من الوجود لا غير،
الالتماع المرح أو الكئيب ...
ألا يكون الانتظار في النهاية
لكل وجود
وليس الموت، بل شيء آخر
كما لو أنه نهاية أخرى ؟
أو تبرير عظيم،
شيء شبيه
بالغفران ؟

What would happen to the world if we were human?

Tudo vale a pena quando a alma não é pequena

And I have the others in me. Even when I'm far away from them, I am forced to live with them. Even when I'm all alone, crowds surround me. I have no place to flee to, unless I were to flee from myself.