Posted: December 29, 2010 by danielparente in portuguese
Tags: ,


I don't know how many souls I have... 
I’ve changed at every moment. 
I always feel like a stranger. 
I’ve never seen or found myself. 
From being so much, I have only soul. 
A man who has soul has no calm. 
A man who sees is just what he sees. 
A man who feels is not who he is. 
Attentive to what I am and see, 
I become them and stop being I. 
Each of my dreams and each desire 
Belongs to whoever had it, not me. 
I am my own landscape, 
I watch myself journey - 
Various, mobile, and alone. 
Here where I am I can’t feel myself. 
That’s why I read, as a stranger, 
My being as if it were pages. 
Not knowing what will come 
And forgetting what has passed, 
I note in the margin of my reading 
What I thought I felt. 
Rereading, I wonder: “Was that me? ” 
God knows, because he wrote it.



Bairro Alto - Lisbon


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s