untitled poem 7 by Fernando Pessoa

Oh ship setting out on a distant voyage,
Why don’t I miss you the way other people  do
After you’ve vanished from sight?
Because, when I don’t see you, you cease to exist.
And if I feel nostalgia for what doesn’t exist,
The feeling is in relationship to nothing.
It’s not the ship but our own selves that we miss.

translated by Richard Zenith

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