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EMPTINESS The day sickens into the lake The colour that its pallor wears. A loss of outline overtakes The landscape, and the horizon bears Like a defeated flag the dim Purposelessness of its dead rim. Let my heart forsake everything. I shall be richer by all I. Every breath, each passing wing Takes me from myself. The whole sky Eats into my self-consciousness And detracts from my true distress. For my true sorrow is not that The day is sad as I am sad, But that no moment can abate The pain that I but pain have had To take with me and see and feel While life goes by like a mere wheel. No: vaguer things than skies and plains Are dark and lowered o'er in me; My sorrows are more empty pains Than of which plains can symbols be; And my void weight of life and self Resembles nothing but itself.
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Fernando Pessoa
1428
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