Explore "The Edge of the Green Wave" by Fernando Pessoa on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The edge of the green wave whitely doth hiss
Upon the wetted sand. I look, yet dream.
Surely reality cannot be this!
Somehow, somewhere this surely doth but seem!
The sky, the sea, this great extent disclosed / Of outward joy, this bulk of life we feel, / Is not something, but something interposed.
Only what in this is not this is real.
If this be to have sense, if to be awake / Be but to see this bright, great sleep of things, / For the rarer potion mine own dreams I'll take / And for truth commune with imaginings, / Holding a dream too bitter, a too fair curse, / This common sleep of men, the universe.