Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our souls and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thoughts our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others’ dreams.
Fernando Pessoa
(english sonnets)
-
unlitstairs liked this
-
theflushed liked this
-
heisjealousforme liked this
-
gossamerlace reblogged this from unlitstairs
-
msodradek liked this
-
kathleenjoy liked this
-
klindbeck liked this
-
graffitiesprit liked this
-
devilduck liked this
-
emptythreats liked this
-
ariellejuanito reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
-
mirabilevisu liked this
-
crowtendr liked this
-
gematriya reblogged this from crashinglybeautiful
-
koalasaur liked this
-
paynehollow liked this
-
sarah-n-dipity liked this
-
radiatinglight liked this
-
crashinglybeautiful reblogged this from unlitstairs and added:
Whether we write or speak or do but look We are ever unapparent. What we are Cannot be transfused into word or book. Our...
-
ontheborderland liked this
-
unlitstairs reblogged this from dataobscura
-
dataobscura posted this
