Wednesday Poem


I am not always the same in what I say and write.
I change, but not very much.
The color of flowers is not the same in the sun
As beneath a lingering cloud
Or when night falls
And flowers are the color of remembrance.

But anyone who really looks can see they are the same flowers,
And so when I appear not to agree with myself,
Take a good look at me:
If I was facing toward the right,
Now I’ve turned to the left,
But I am always me, standing on the same two feet—
Always the same, thanks to me and to the earth
And to my convinced eyes and ears
And to my clear contiguity of soul . . .

by Fernando Pessoa
The Complete Works of Alberta Caeiro
New Directions Books, 2020