A DAY OF SUN
I love the things that children love
Yet with a comprehension deep
That lifts my pining soul above
Those in which life as yet doth sleep.
All things that simple are and bright,
Unnoticed unto keen‑worn wit,
With a child's natural delight
That makes me proudly weep at it.
I love the sun with personal glee,
The air as if I could embrace
Its wideness with my soul and be
A drunkard by expense of gaze.
I love the heavens with a joy
That makes me wonder at my soul,
It is a pleasure nought can cloy,
A thrilling I cannot control.
So stretched out here let me lie
Before the sun that soaks me up,
And let me gloriously die
Drinking too deep of living's cup;
Be swallowed of the sun and spread
Over the infinite expanse,
Dissolved, like a drop of dew dead
Lost in a super‑normal trance;
Lost in impersonal consciousness
And mingling in all life become
A selfless part of Force and Stress
And have a universal home;
And in a strange way undefined
Lose in the one and living Whole
The limit that I call my mind,
The bounded thing I call my soul.
Poesia Inglesa. Fernando Pessoa. (Organização e tradução de Luísa Freire. Prefácio de Teresa Rita Lopes.) Lisboa: Livros Horizonte, 1995.- 172.