Omen Love, when it reveals itself, It cannot be revealed. It feels good to look at her, But she doesn't know how to talk to her. Who wants to say what he feels Doesn't know what to say. Spoken: she seems to lie... Silence: she seems to forget... Ah, but if she guessed, If she could hear the look, And if one look was enough for her To know that they're loving her! But whoever is sorry, shuts up; Who wants to say how much he feels? Stays soulless or speaks, Stays alone, entirely! But if this can tell you What I dare not tell you, I won't have to talk to you anymore Because I'm talking to you... (Fernando Pessoa)