=Autopsychography by Fernando Pessoa=

The poet's a clever bastard
faking a hurt
to show us the sore
he cannot show you.

You read what he's written
and you feel—not what he feels— 
but some imagined pain
that no one really feels.

And that's all words are—
a track laid down
to entertain our minds
around which runs in circles
the little toy train 
we call our heart.

—Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935)

"translated" by Meeah Williams


There have been many translations of this poem originally written in Pessoa's native Portuguese. Thirteen more, including the original, can be found here:  http://disquiet.com/thirteen.html