Almost

A little more sunshine—and I would be ember,
A little more blue—and I would take flight.
But I lacked that impulse to get there...
If only I had remained where I was...

In wonder or in peace? In vain... All vanished in
a deceptive shallow sea of foam;
and the great dream, awoken in mist,
the great dream—oh grief!—a dream almost lived...

Almost love, almost triumph and flame,
almost the beginning and the end—almost too much...
But in my soul, everything pours...
and yet, it was nothing but an illusion!

In all there was a beginning... and all went wrong...
—Oh the agony of being almost, an endless agony...—
In the midst of others I failed myself,
an open wing that could not fly...

Flashes of my soul I thwarted...
Temples where altars I never lay...
Rivers I lost, never taking them to sea...
Longings I felt but that were lost within...

As I wander, only signs do I encounter...
Ways to the sun—I see them closed;
and my faithless hands of a hero
cowardly placed bars on the cliffs...

In a moment of weakness,
all I approached, but nothing I possessed...
Today, for me, there is only disappointment
for the things I kissed but never lived...

— Mário de Sá-Carneiro

Translated by Martin D'Evelin for