Always one thing as useless as the other,
Always the impossible as stupid as the real,
Always the mystery of the depths as certain as the mystery sleep of the surface,
Always this or always something else or neither one thing nor the other.
But a man entered the Tobacco Shop (to buy tobacco?)
And plausible reality suddenly crashes down on me.
I feel energetic, reinforced, human,
And I'm going to try to write these verses in which I say the opposite.
I light a cigarette when I think about writing them
And I taste the release of all thoughts in the cigarette.
I follow the smoke like a route of my own,
And I enjoy, in a sensitive and competent moment,
The release of all speculation
And the awareness that metaphysics is a consequence of being in a bad mood.
Then I lie back in the chair
And he continues smoking.
As long as Fate granted it to me, I continued smoking.
(If I married the washerwoman's daughter
Maybe i would be happy.)
Seeing this, I get up from the chair. I go to the window.
The man left the Tobacco Shop (putting change in his pants pocket?).
Ah, I know him; It's Esteves without metaphysics.
(The Tobacco Shop Owner arrived at the door.)
As if by a divine instinct, Esteves turned and saw me.
He waved goodbye to me, I shouted goodbye to him, Esteves!, and the universe
He rebuilt himself without ideal or hope, and the Tobacco Shop Owner transmitted
-Fernando Pessoa
Despite the incomprehensible transcendent and the punishment of existing in the material world, and desire as the root of all pain, I still have to take a shower in 20 minutes and maybe a coffee
Always the impossible as stupid as the real,
Always the mystery of the depths as certain as the mystery sleep of the surface,
Always this or always something else or neither one thing nor the other.
But a man entered the Tobacco Shop (to buy tobacco?)
And plausible reality suddenly crashes down on me.
I feel energetic, reinforced, human,
And I'm going to try to write these verses in which I say the opposite.
I light a cigarette when I think about writing them
And I taste the release of all thoughts in the cigarette.
I follow the smoke like a route of my own,
And I enjoy, in a sensitive and competent moment,
The release of all speculation
And the awareness that metaphysics is a consequence of being in a bad mood.
Then I lie back in the chair
And he continues smoking.
As long as Fate granted it to me, I continued smoking.
(If I married the washerwoman's daughter
Maybe i would be happy.)
Seeing this, I get up from the chair. I go to the window.
The man left the Tobacco Shop (putting change in his pants pocket?).
Ah, I know him; It's Esteves without metaphysics.
(The Tobacco Shop Owner arrived at the door.)
As if by a divine instinct, Esteves turned and saw me.
He waved goodbye to me, I shouted goodbye to him, Esteves!, and the universe
He rebuilt himself without ideal or hope, and the Tobacco Shop Owner transmitted
-Fernando Pessoa
Despite the incomprehensible transcendent and the punishment of existing in the material world, and desire as the root of all pain, I still have to take a shower in 20 minutes and maybe a coffee
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