17 translations of Pessoa's Autopsicografia

http://disquiet.com/thirteen.html




The poet is a fake.
His faking seems so real
That he will fake the ache
Which he can really feel.


And those who read his cries
Feel in the paper tears
Not two aches that are his
But one that is not theirs.


And so in its ring
Giving the mind a game
Goes this train on a string
And the heart is its name.


—Keith Bosley







The poet fancying each belief
So wholly through and through
Ends by imagining the grief
He really feels is true.

And those who read what he has spelt
In the read grief feel good--
Not in the two griefs he has felt,
But one they never could.

Thus to beguile and entertain
The reason, does he start,
Upon its rails, the clockwork train
That's also called the heart.

—Roy Campbell