O night eternal, call me your son
And take me into your arms. I'm a king
And take me into your arms. I'm a king
Who relinquished, willingly,
My throne of dreams and tedium.
My sword, which dragged my weak arms down,
I surrendered to strong and steady hands,
And in the anteroom I abandoned
My shattered scepter and crown.
My spurs that jingled to no avail
And my useless coat of mail
I left on the cold stone steps.
I took off royalty, body and soul,
And returned to the night so calm, so old,
Like the landscape when the sun sets.
My throne of dreams and tedium.
My sword, which dragged my weak arms down,
I surrendered to strong and steady hands,
And in the anteroom I abandoned
My shattered scepter and crown.
My spurs that jingled to no avail
And my useless coat of mail
I left on the cold stone steps.
I took off royalty, body and soul,
And returned to the night so calm, so old,
Like the landscape when the sun sets.
Fernando Pessoa
(Portugal 1888-1935)
in Poesia Inglesa
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