Fernando Pessoa

Between the tree and seeing it,

Where is the dream?

What bridge's arch observes God

More? . . . And I am downcast,

Not knowing if the bridge's curve

Is the horizon's . . .

Between life and what is living,

Toward what side does the river flow?

Trees with leaves laden,

Between Treeness and all this, what's the thread?

Doves in flight, is the dovecote

Ever to their right, or is it real?

God is a huge Interval,

But between what and what? . . .

Between my speech and speechlessness,

Do I exist? Who is it sees me?

I stray . . . And the dovecote up above,

Is it around the dove, or to one side?