Pity the stay-at-home
Happy at his heart
Without a dream, lifting high
To stir his embers till they burn
In that heart he must abandon!
Pity the happy-go-lucky!
He lives cause life goes on.
Nothing at heart will tell him
More than that root lesson -
To make of his life his tomb.
Age after age disappears ,
Filling time with ages to come.
Being man is being discontent.
Let blind forces be overcome
By the visionary soul!
And so, the four ages spent
By the being that dreamt
The earth will be the stage
For that bright day just begun
In the atrium of the Dark night.
Greece, Rome, Christianity,
Europe – all for pass on
To where all ages go.
Who’ll come to live the truth
The King Sebastian died?
Fernando Pessoa
