35 Sonnets by Fernando Pessoa — Read

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Happy the maimed, the halt, the mad, the blind -- / All who, stamped separate by curtailing birth, / Owe no duty's allegiance to mankind / Nor stand a valuing in their scheme of worth! / But I, whom Fate, not Nature, did curtail, / By no exterior voidness being exempt, / Must bear accusing glances where I fail, / Fixed in the general orbit of contempt.

Fate, less than Nature in being kind to lacking, / Giving the ill, shows not as outer cause, / Making our mock-free will the mirror's backing / Which Fate's own acts as if in itself shows; / And men, like children, seeing the image there, / Take place for cause and make our will Fate bear.

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