Contemplate ‘Trapo’ (“Rag”), by Fernando Pessoa, in a sound experience

The day turned out rainy.
The morning, though, was quite blue.
The day turned out rainy.
Since morning I had been a little sad.

Anticipation? Sadness? Nothing at all?
I don’t know: I was sad already on waking.
The day turned out rainy.

I know well: the penumbra of rain is elegant.
I know well: the sun oppresses an elegant person, being so ordinary.
I know well: being susceptible to changes of light is not elegant.
But who told the sun or the others that I want to be elegant?
Give me the blue sky and the visible sun.
Mist, rains, darkness — those I have in myself.

Today I want only peace.
I would even love home, provided I did not have one.
I get sleepy from wanting peace.
Let’s not exaggerate!
I am in fact sleepy, with no explanation.
The day turned out rainy.

Tenderness? Affections? They are memories...
You have to be a child to have them...
My lost dawn, my true blue sky!
The day turned out rainy.

Pretty mouth of the caretaker’s daughter,
Fruit pulp of a heart yet to be eaten...
When was that? I don’t know...
In the blue of the morning...

The day turned out rainy.

(Pessoa, 2016, p. 269; our translation)