Saturday, June 5, 2010

(you were my ship.)

O ship setting out on a distant voyage,
Why don't I miss you the way other people do
After you've vanished from sight?
Because, when I don't see you, you cease to exist.
And if I feel nostalgia for what doesn't exist,
The feeling is in relationship to nothing.
It's not the ship but our own selves that we miss.

Alberto Caeiro, 29 May 1918

No comments:

Post a Comment