SPELL
by Fernando Pessoa
· s.d. (uncertain date)
Published 01/07/1880
From the moonlit brink of dreams
I stretch foiled hands to thee,
O borne down other streams
Than eye can think to see!
O crowned with spirit-beams!
O veiled spirituality!
My dreams and thoughts abate
Their pennons at thy feet,
O angel born too late
For fallen men to meet!
In what new sensual state
Could our twined lives feel sweet?
What new emotion must
I dream to think thee mine?
What purity of lust?
O tendrilled as a vine
Around my caressed trust!
O dream-pressed spirit-wine!