Odes

written by


« Reload image

1.
Of the gardens of Adonis, Lydia, I love
Most of all those fugitive roses
  That on the day they are born,
  That very day, must also die.
Eternal, for them, the light of day:
They're born when the sun is already high
  And die before Apollo's course

      Across the visible sky is run.
We too, of our lives, must make one day:
We never know, my Lydia, nor want
    To know of nights before or after
  The little while that we may last.
2.
To be great, be whole: nothing that's you
  Should you exaggerate or exclude.
In each thing, be all. Give all you are
  In the least you ever do.
The whole moon, because it rides so high,
  Is reflected in each pool.

© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa