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Слушать(AI)Sonnet XXIV
Something in me was born before the
And saw the sun begin from far away.
Our yellow, local day on its wont jars,
For it hath communed with an absolute day.
Through my Thought's night, as a worn robe's heard
That I have never seen,
I drag this
That saw the Possible like a dawn grow
On the lost night before it, mute and vast.
It dates remoter than God's birth can reach,
That had no birth but the world's coming after.
So the world's to me as, after whispered speech,
The cause-ignored sudden echoing of laughter. That 't has a meaning my conjecture knows, But that 't has meaning's all its meaning shows.
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 XIV
We are born at sunset and we die ere morn, And the whole darkness of the world we know, How can we guess its truth, to darkness born, The obscure consequence of absent glow
Sonnet XXXIV
Happy the maimed, the halt, the mad, the blind--All who, stamped separate by curtailing birth, Owe no duty's allegiance to Nor stand a valuing in their scheme of worth But I, whom Fate, not Nature, did curtail,
Sonnet VI
As a bad orator, badly o'er-book-skilled, Doth overflow his purpose with made heat, And, like a clock, winds with withoutness What should have been an inner instinct's feat;
Sonnet XXXIII
He that goes back does, since he goes, advance, Though he doth not advance who goeth back, And he that seeks, though he on nothing chance, May still by words be said to find a lack