Today I read nearly two pages
In a book by a mystic poet,
And I laughed like someone who’d been weeping and weeping.Mystic poets are sick philosophers,
And philosophers are madmen.Because mystic poets say flowers feel
And say that stones have souls
And rivers have ecstasies in moonlight.But flowers wouldn’t be flowers if they felt anything—
They’d be people;
And if stones had souls they’d be living things, not stones;
And if rivers had ecstasies in moonlight,
They’d be sick people.Only if you don’t know what flowers, stones, and rivers are
Can you talk about their feelings.
To talk about the souls of flowers, stones, and rivers,
Is to talk about yourself, about your delusions.
Thank God stones are just stones,
And rivers nothing but rivers,
And flowers just flowers.—Fernando Pessoa
(via ratak-monodosico & etctatic)
Beautiful.
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