Clicca sull'immagine per ingrandirla
Fernando Pessoa Sonnet VII

Thy words are torture to me, that scarce grieve thee–
That entire death shall null my entire thought;
And I feel torture, not that I believe thee,
But that I cannot disbelieve thee not.
Shall that of me that now contains the stars
Be by the very contained stars survived?
Thus were Fate all unjust. Yet what truth bars
An all unjust Fate’s truth from being believed?
Conjecture cannot fit to the seen world
A garment of its thought untorn or covering,
Or with its stuffed garb forge an otherworld
Without itself its dead deceit discovering;
So, all being possible, an idle thought may
Less idle thoughts, self-known no truer, dismay.

HERE the Italian version

 

 

Lascia un commento

Il Tuo Indirizzo Email non sarà pubblicato.

*

Copyright © 2003-2020 – Tutti i diritti riservati. – Disegnato e realizzato da Lio Saccocci

Pin It on Pinterest

Shares
Share This

Condividi se ti è piaciuto!

Dammi una mano, fammi conoscere ai tuoi amici!