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Spell

Fernando Pessoa

Contemporânea 9, março de 1923, p. 150.

  • Spell

    From the moonlit brink of dreams

    I stretch foiled hands to thee,


    O borne down other streams

    Than eye can think to see!


    O crowned with spirit-beams!

    O veiled spiritually!


    My dreams and thoughts abate

    Their pennons at thy feet,


    O angel born too late

    For fallen man to meet!


    In what new sensual state

    Could our twined lives feel sweet?


    What new emotion must

    I dream, to think thee mine?


    What purity of lust?

    O tendrilled as a vine


    Around my caressed trust!

    O dream-pressed spirit-Wine!


    FERNANDO PESSOA

  • Spell

    From the moonlit brink of dreams

    I stretch foiled hands to thee,


    O borne down other streams

    Than eye can think to see!


    O crowned with spirit-beams!

    O veiled spiritually!


    My dreams and thoughts abate

    Their pennons at thy feet,


    O angel born too late

    For fallen man to meet!


    In what new sensual state

    Could our twined lives feel sweet?


    What new emotion must

    I dream, to think thee mine?


    What purity of lust?

    O tendrilled as a vine


    Around my caressed trust!

    O dream-pressed spirit-Wine!


    FERNANDO PESSOA