Microscópio de Alma

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring —

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone —

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone —

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still —

From the torrent, or the fountain —

From the red cliff of the mountain —

From the sun that ’round me roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold —

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d me flying by —

From the thunder, and the storm —

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view —

Edgar Allan Poe. 

Tradução:

(Leonardo de Magalhaens)