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Слушать(AI)Sonnet XI
Like to a ship that storms urge on its course,
By its own trials our soul is surer made.
The very things that make the voyage
Do make it better; its peril is its aid.
And, as the storm drives from the storm, our
Within the peril disimperilled grows;
A port is near the more from port we part--The port whereto our driven direction goes.
If we reap knowledge to cross-profit,
From storms we learn, when the storm's height doth drive--That the black presence of its violence
The pushing promise of near far blue skies. Learn we but how to have the pilot-skill, And the storm's very might shall mate our will.
Fernando Pessoa
Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa (13 June 1888 – 30 November 1935) was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher and phi
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Sonnet IX
Oh to be idle loving idleness But I am idle all in hate of me; Ever in action's dream, in the false Of purposed action never set to be
Sonnet XXIX
My weary life, that lives On the foiled off-brink of being e'er but this, To whom the power to will hath been And the will to renounce doth also miss;
Sonnet XVI
We never joy enjoy to that full Regret doth wish joy had enjoyèd been, Nor have the strength regret to Recalling not past joy's thought, but its mien
This
They say I pretend or All I write No such thing It simply is that
