Like to a ship that storms urge on its course,
By its own trials our soul is sure made.
The very things that make the voyage worse
Do make it better; its peril is its aid.
And, as the storm drives from the storm, our heart
Within the peril disimperilled grows;
A port is near the more from port we part -
The port whereto our driven directions goes.
If we reap knowledge to cross-profit, this
From storms we learn, when the storm's height doth drive -
That the black presence of its violence is
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, Sonetos - aqui
A biblioteca particular de Fernando Pessoa já está online.
David Burnyan quer Fernando Pessoa na categoria dos poetas Sul Africanos aqui.