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| About the Selection and Sources | |
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| Acknowledgments | |
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| Introduction: The Drama and Dream of Fernando Pessoa | |
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| Alberto Caeiro: The Unwitting Master | |
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| I've never kept sheep | |
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| My gaze is clear like a sunflower | |
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| To not think of anything is metaphysics enough | |
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| I'm a keeper of sheep | |
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| Hello, keeper of sheep | |
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| I'd rather be the dust of the road | |
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| The Tagus is more beautiful than the river that flows through my village | |
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| My gaze, blue like the sky | |
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| What we see of things are the things | |
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| Yesterday afternoon a man from the cities | |
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| Like a large blot of smudged fire | |
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| Blessed be the same sun of other lands | |
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| The mystery of things - where is it? | |
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| I see a butterfly go by | |
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| The coach came down the road, and went on | |
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| On an incredibly clear day | |
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| Before I had you | |
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| Perhaps those who are good at seeing are poor at feeling | |
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| The shepherd in love lost his staff | |
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| To see the fields and the river | |
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| When Spring returns | |
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| If I die young | |
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| It is night. It's very dark. In a house far away | |
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| The Universe is not an idea of mine | |
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| The child who thinks about fairies and believes in them | |
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| Slowly the field unrolls and shines golden | |
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| Yesterday the preacher of truths (his truths) | |
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| They spoke to me of people, and of humanity | |
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| I lie down in the grass | |
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| Dirty unknown child playing outside my door | |
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| You who are a mystic see a meaning in all things | |
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| Ah! They want a light that's better than the sun's | |
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| That thing over there was more there than it is | |
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| This morning I went out very early | |
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| I can also make conjectures | |
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| This may be the last day of my life | |
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| Ricardo Reis: The Sad Epicurean | |
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| Others narrate with lyres or harps | |
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| The gods grant nothing more than life | |
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| Don't clap your hands before beauty | |
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| Ah, you believers in Christs and Marys | |
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| On this day when the green fields | |
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| Here, with no other Apollo than Apollo | |
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| Above the truth reign the gods | |
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| Let the gods | |
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| Lips red from wine | |
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| I prefer roses, my love, to the homeland | |
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| Follow your destiny | |
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| The bird alights, looking only to its alighting | |
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| O morning that breaks without looking at me | |
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| Obey the law, whether it's wrong or you are | |
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| I want my verses to be like jewels | |
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| Day after day life's the same life | |
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| Who delights in the mind can delight in no destiny | |
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| As if each kiss | |
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| Your dead gods tell me nothing I need | |
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| Fate frightens me, Lydia. Nothing is certain | |
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| I devote my higher mind to the ardent | |
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| My eyes see the fields, the fields | |
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| Each man is a world, and as each fountain | |
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| Not only wine but its oblivion I pour | |
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| How great a sadness and bitterness | |
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| Solemnly over the fertile land | |
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| Where there are roses we plant doubt | |
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| As long as I feel the full breeze in my hair | |
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| What we feel, not what is felt | |
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| I don't know if the love you give is love you have | |
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| Want little: you'll have everything | |
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| I was left in the world, all alone | |
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| I tell with severity. I think what I feel | |
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| I placidly wait for what I don't know | |
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| Countless lives inhabit us | |
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| Alvaro De Campos: The Jaded Sensationist | |
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| I study myself but can't perceive | |
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| Listen, Daisy. When I die, although | |
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| Ah, the first minutes in cafes of new cities | |
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| Time's Passage | |
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| It was on one of my voyages | |
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| Ah, when we set out to sea | |
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| But it's not just the cadaver | |
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| I leaned back in the deck chair and closed my eyes | |
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| The Tobacco Shop | |
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| Oporto-Style Tripe | |
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| A Note in the Margin | |
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| Deferral | |
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| Sometimes I meditate | |
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| Ah, the freshness in the face of leaving a task undone | |
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| At long last ..., no doubt about it ... | |
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| Pop | |
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| I walk in the night of the suburban street | |
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| Yes, I know it's all quite natural | |
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| Streetcar Stop | |
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| Birthday | |
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| No! All I want is freedom | |
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| I'd like to be able to like liking | |
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| Reality | |
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| I'm beginning to know myself. I don't exist | |
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| Pack your bags for Nowhere at All | |
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| I got off the train | |
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| This old anguish | |
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| Impassively | |
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| On the eve of never departing | |
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| Symbols? I'm sick of symbols | |
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| The ancients invoked the Muses | |
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| I don't know if the stars rule the world | |
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| I've been thinking about nothing at all | |
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| All love letters are | |
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| Fernando Pessoa-himself: The Mask Behind the Man | |
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| Ocean (Morning) | |
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| God | |
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| From Oblique Rain | |
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| The wind is blowing too hard | |
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| The Mummy | |
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| The gods are happy | |
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| In the light-footed march of heavy time | |
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| Christmas | |
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| By the moonlight, in the distance | |
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| Waterfront | |
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| Some Music | |
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| I feel sorry for the stars | |
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| I seem to be growing calm | |
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| Sleep | |
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| I contemplate the silent pond | |
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| Like a uselessly full glass | |
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| The sun shining over the field | |
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| I don't know how many souls I have | |
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| The soul with boundaries | |
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| I'm sorry I don't respond | |
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| Autopsychography | |
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| I don't know how to be truly sad | |
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| The clouds are dark | |
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| Like an astonishing remnant | |
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| If I think for more than a moment | |
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| From the mountain comes a song | |
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| This species of madness | |
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| The wind in the darkness howls | |
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| I have ideas and reasons | |
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| With a smile and without haste | |
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| Outside where the trees | |
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| I hear in the night across the street | |
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| Almost anonymous you smile | |
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| This | |
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| The day is quiet, quiet is the wind | |
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| The sun rests unmoving | |
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| The washwoman beats the laundry | |
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| To travel! To change countries | |
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| This great wavering between | |
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| I have in me like a haze | |
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| Dreams, systems, myths, ideals | |
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| I divide what I know | |
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| The child that laughs in the street | |
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| Prince Henry the Navigator | |
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| The Stone Pillar | |
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| The Sea Monster | |
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| Epitaph of Bartolomeu Dias | |
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| Ferdinand Magellan | |
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| Portuguese Sea | |
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| Prayer | |
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| Notes to the Introduction and the Poems | |
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| Bibliography | |