Alberto Caeiro, The Keeper of Sheep

"I don’t bother with rhyme. Rarely Are two trees the same, one beside the other. I think and write like flowers have color But with less perfection in my way of expressing myself Because I lack the divine simplicity Of wholly being only my exterior. I see and I’m moved,Moved the way water runs when the ground is sloping And what I write is as natural as the rising wind..."

"That lady has a piano. It’s nice, but it’s not the running of rivers Or the murmuring trees make .. Who needs a piano?It’s better to have ears And love Nature."

"The Tejo runs down from Spain And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal. Everybody knows that. But not many people know the river of my village And where it comes from And where it’s going. And so, because it belongs to less people,The river of my village is freer and greater."

"Lightly, lightly, very lightly,A wind passes very lightly And goes away, always very lightly. And I don’t know what I think And I don’t want to know."

"Yes, this is what my senses alone have learned:—Things don’t have significance: they only have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things."

"Sometimes in the evening on Summer days,Even when there’s not a breeze at all, it seems Like there’s a light breeze blowing for a minute But the trees are unmoving In every leaf of their leaves And our feelings have had an illusion,An illusion of what would please them..."

"If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it. I’m a mystic, but only in my body,My soul is simple and doesn’t think."

"One day when God fell asleep And the Holy Ghost went off flying,He got into a box of miracles and stole three. With the first he made it so that no one would know he had run away. With the second he made himself a human boy forever. With the third he created a Christ eternally crucified And left him nailed to the cross that there is in Heaven Where he’s used as a model for other crosses. Then he ran away to the sun And came down on the first ray he caught."

"Let’s be simple and calm,Like brooks and trees,And God will love us by making Beautiful things like the trees and brooks for us,And give us greenness in his spring,And a river for us to go to when we end..."

"And sometimes if I want To imagine I’m a lamb(Or a whole flock Spreading out all over the hillside So I can be a lot of happy things at the same time),It’s only because I feel what I write at sunset,Or when a cloud passes its hand over the light And silence runs over the grass outside. When I sit and write poems Or, walking along the roads or pathways,I write poems on the paper in my thoughts,I feel a staff in my hand And see my silhouette On top of a knoll,Looking after my flock and seeing my ideas,Or looking after my ideas and seeing my flock,With a silly smile like someone who doesn’t understand what somebody’s saying But tries to pretend they do."

"I’m a keeper of flocks. The flock is my thoughts And my thoughts are all sensations. I think with my eyes and with my ears And with my hands and feet And with my nose and mouth. Thinking about a flower is seeing and smelling it And eating a piece of fruit is knowing its meaning. That’s why when on a hot day I feel sad from liking it so much,And I throw myself lengthwise on the grass And shut my hot eyes,And feeling my whole body lying on reality,I know the truth and I’m happy."

"But if God is the flowers and the trees And the hills and the sun and the moonlight,Then I believe in him,Then I believe in him all the time,And my whole life is an oration and a mass,And a communion with my eyes and through my ears."

"The river of my village doesn’t make you think about anything. When you’re at its bank you’re only at its bank."

"If I talk about her like she’s a being It’s because talking about her I need to use the language of men Which gives personality to things,And imposes a name on things."

"Pensar incomoda como andar à chuva Quando o vento cresce e parece que chove mais."

"Praise be to God I’m not good,And have the natural egotism of flowers And rivers following their bed Preoccupied without knowing it Only with blooming and flowing. This is the only mission in the World,This—to exist clearly,And to know how to do it without thinking about it.)"

"What does this think about that?Nothing thinks about anything. Does the earth have consciousness of its stones and plants?If it did, it would be people. . . Why am I worrying about this?If I think about these things,I’ll stop seeing trees and plants And stop seeing the Earth For only seeing my thoughts... I’ll get unhappy and stay in the dark. And so, without thinking, I have the Earth and the Sky."

"Things don’t have significance: they only have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things."

"There’s enough metaphysics in not thinking about anything."

"All beings exist and nothing else And that’s why they’re called beings"