Countless lives inhabit us. I don’t know, when I think or feel, Who it is that thinks or feels. I am merely the place Where things are thought or felt. I have more than just one soul. There are more I’s than I myself. I exist, nevertheless, Indifferent to them all. I silence them: I speak. The crossing urges of what I feel or do not feel Struggle in who I am, but I Ignore them. They dictate nothing To the I I know: I write. © Translation: 1998, Richard Zenith From: Fernando Pessoa & Co. – Selected Poems Publisher: Grove Press, New York, 1998
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