Beatriz Milhazes (Brazilian, 1960)
But this thought, which, really (or as you might suspect), just occurred to me, does incline me to transmigrate my soul into a Portuguese-speaking body, and, while we are at it, in Brazil rather than Portugal. I'm always eager to escape European shadows though Pessoa's is a shadow providing sun.
Hey, ignore me and read this poem which I found on http://alberto-caeiro.blogspot.com/. A better blogger than myself would rethink her freewheeling associations and present interpretation. I am not the better blogger. Heart heart Pessoa. This poem is not titled.
I’m in no hurry. What for?
The sun and moon aren’t in a hurry: they’re right.
Hurrying is believing people can get past their legs,
Or that, jumping, they can land past their shadow.
No; I don’t know how to hurry.
If I stretch out my arm, I get exactly where my arm gets---
Not even a centimeter farther.
I only touch where I touch, not where I think.
I can only sit down where I am.
And that’s funny like all really true truths,
But what’s really funny is that we’re always thinking something else,
And we live truant from our reality.
And we’re always outside it because we’re here.
Fernando Pessoa / Alberto Caeiro (6/20/1919)