as a little homage to my mother
[and not that she reads this blog]
i remember today, the Portuguese poet
Fernando Pessoa
one of my mother's favorite writers
Pessoa is a wonderful poet
who lived to authentic life of a poet
immersed always on the darkness of
self-inquisitiveness while turning
his search into beautiful poems
but also some rather painfully wonderful prose
i think his major prose piece might be
Das Buch der Unruhe
The Book of Disquiet
El Libro del desasosiego
[one little dusty shelf at home]
and here some quotes
taken literally form my book
i will try to translate in English
as my Pessoa books are both in Spanish
and they are both a gift from my mom
i sort of requested them from her shelves
and she wasn't too happy to give them to me
as she likes to keep at least a copy for herself
but being an only daughter and she knowing
the treasure that Pessoa is, she handed one to me
and the other one, the purple one with the
Poemas Esotéricos, she left here on one of her visits
es tut mir Leid, my german is not so good
to try to translate these powerful words
318.
... ships passing in the night, not greeting each other, not knowing each other...
220. Painful Pause
To dream, what for?
What have I done of myself? Nothing.
If I could myself spiritualize in the night, yes.
Internal statue without contours, External Dream without having been dreamt
224.
... that episode of imagination that we call reality.
[the rest of the paragraph is beautiful, ironic, and painful too but i cannot translate it all, please look your closer bookstore and buy this book in your language of preference, it will be a soulful companion on dark nights or clear mornings... poetry is never a luxury but a necessity of the heart]
also good companions for heart maladies are his
Esoterisch Gedichte
Esoteric Poems
Poemas Esotéricos
