"The Common Grave

Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood
And saw the thoughts of those at home go by
To the great grave upon the hill of blood.
Upon the darkness they went visibly,
Each in the vesture of its own distress,
Among them there came One, frail as a sigh
And like a creature of the wilderness
Dug with her bleeding hands. She neither cried
Nor wept; nor did she see the many stark
And dead that lay unburied at her side.
All night she toiled, and at that time of dawn,
When Day and Night do change their More and Less
And Day is More, I saw the melting Dark
Stir to the last, and knew she laboured on."

--Sydn*y Dob*ll, in: Th* Spasmodic Car**r of Sydn*y Dob*ll (M. W*stwat*r, 1992)



"If the Orpheu group had continued (three of them died very young, including Sá-Carneiro), then there might have arisen a whole system of heteronyms invented by writers other than Pessoa." (via wood_s lot)


"Sleep deep, good eel, in your perverse marine" --St*v*ns