Cahiers du Vertebrata

a human being is never what he is but the self he seeks

Month: March, 2015

Fernando Pessoa / Joan Miró

221.

Uvijek sam bio ironičan sanjač, nevjeran unutarnjim obećanjima. Kao potpuni stranac, kao slučajni promatrač onoga što sam mislio da jesam, uvijek sam uživao u porazima svojih sanjarenja. Nikada nisam povjerovao u ono što sam vjerovao. Napunio sam šake pijeskom, nazvao to zlatom, samo da bih ih otvorio da sve iscuri. Riječi su bile jedina istina. S pravom izrečenom riječi, sve je bilo učinjeno; preostalo je pijesak koji je to uvijek bio.

I’ve always been an ironic dreamer, unfaithful to my inner promises. Like a complete outsider, a casual observer of whom I thought I was, I’ve always enjoyed watching my daydreams go down in defeat. I was never convinced of what I believed in. I filled my hands with sand, called it gold, and opened them up to let it slide through. Words were my only truth. When the right words were said, all was done; the rest was the sand that had always been.

Tenho sido sempre um sonhador irónico, infiel às promessas interiores. Gozei sempre, como outro e estrangeiro, as derrotas dos meus devaneios, assistente casual ao que pensei ser. Nunca dei crença aquilo em que acreditei. Enchi as mãos de areia, chamei-lhe ouro, e abri as mãos dela toda, escorrente. A frase fora a única verdade. Com a frase dita estava tudo feito; o mais era a areia que sempre fora.

Fernando Pessoa

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