(A poem by Fernando Pessoa (Alberto Caeiro)
From the top window of my house,
with a white handkerchief say goodbye
my verses, traveling to humanity.
And I'm not happy nor sad.
That is the fate of the verses.
I wrote them and teach them all
because I can not do otherwise,
as the flower can not hide the color,
and the river running to hide,
or hide the tree that bears fruit.
Behold
and go away, as if they were in the coach,
and I feel sorry inadvertently
like a pain in the body.
Who knows who will read them?
Who knows whose hands go?
Flower, fate took my eye.
tree, I pulled the fruit to their mouths.
River, the fate of my water was not staying me.
I resigned and I'm almost happy,
almost as happy as he gets tired of being sad.
Gone, gone from me! Spend
tree and is scattered by nature.
Wilt and powdered flower lasts forever.
the river runs into the sea and the water is always
that was theirs.
Paso and I'm like the universe.
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