Yesterday you fell asleep - Margarida Ferra

Yesterday you fell asleep, we
still had all the knives in our mouths,
three unused.

Sonnet - Francisco de Sá de Miranda

I know not, lady, by what nameless charm 
Those looks, that voice, that smile, have each the power 
Of kindling loftier thoughts, and feelings more 

Mass grave - Lia Cachim

They die by the thousands —
and the cars march on
the graves the shrines
in a sluggish rush
as if pretending
that funeral elegies might serve
for more than kindling
for the fire

A small quake - Eugénio de Andrade

There is a small quake in some place or other
as you say my name.

Past Joys - Rodriguez Lobo

Dear Tagus, what immeasurable space
Our present from our former lot divides!
Glassy of yore, now turbid are thy tides,
Once smiles my brow adorned, now tears deface.

Shepherdesses' song - Gil Vicente

Turn away your eyes from mine,

O my life and consolation! 

Wherefore fill me with such passion?

The Valley Song - Gil Vicente

My lady now no more takes pleasure 

privily with me perpending — 

Alack for pains that are unending!

Wooden Sculpture from the Sixteenth Century - João Miguel Fernandes Jorge

The father, the son, missing only the holy spirit.

maybe for this reason this Trinity in the museum of Angra

emits most passionately an aura of the divine Nazarene.

The Lusiad (extract from Book II: Arrival at Mombasa) - Luís Vas de Camões

The fervent lustre of the evening ray

Behind the western hills now died away,

And night, ascending from the dim-brow'd east,

The twilight gloom with deeper shades increas'd,

When Gama heard the creaking of the oar,

And mark'd the white waves length'ning from the shore.

O spirit pure - António Ferreira

O spirit pure, purer in realms above 

Than whilst thou tarriedst in this vale of pain, 

Why hast thou treated me with cold disdain. 

Nor, as thou ought'st, returned my faithful love?

Love does not deceive me - José Afonso

Love does not deceive me

With his slightness

If of an old flame

badly lives, bitterness

Sonnet I - Fernando Pessoa

Whether we write or speak or do but look

We are ever unapparent. What we are

Cannot be transfused into word or book.

The Lusiad (extract from Book I: Sailing to Mombasa) - Luís Vas de Camões

Between the isle and Ethiopia's land

A narrow current laves each adverse strand;

Close by the margin where the green tide flows,

Full to the bay a lordly city rose;

The Arrabida Convent - Francisco Manuel de Melo

Falter not, pilgrim here! with steady steps

Upward along this dark-o’ershadowed path

The Lusiad (extract from Book I: Night-time in the Indian Ocean) - Luís Vas de Camões

Now shooting o'er the flood his fervid blaze,

The red-brow'd sun withdraws his beamy rays;

Safe in the bay the crew forget their cares,

And peaceful rest their wearied strength repairs.

Epigram - Rui Knopfli

Your lips, I tell you, are not as sweet

as honey.

The Lusiad (extract from Book I: Islands in the Indian Ocean) - Luís Vas de Camões

Whilst thus in heaven's bright palace fate was weigh'd

Right onward still the brave Armada strayed:

Right on they steer by Ethiopia's strand

And pastoral Madagascar's verdant land.

Before the balmy gales of cheerful spring,

With heav'n their friend, they spread the canvas wing,

The sky cerulean, and the breathing air,

The lasting promise of a calm declare.

Sonnet - Domingos Maximiano Torres

Mariella, dear, but, O, ungrateful fair!

Look on the sea serene null calmly bright, —

Halfway to a House - Rosa Alice Branco

I take light from the closet drawers. The first day

of fall. And all those years at the bottom.

In This World Where We Forget - Fernando Pessoa

In this world where we forget

we are shadows of who we are,

and the true expressions we form

in that other where, souls, we live,

are here grimaces and signs.