Poem for the day

On earth I lived few years, and weary ones,
cram-full of stubborn, wrethced misery;
the dark day's light deserted me so soon
I never saw my quater century.

I travelled across far-off lands and seas
seeking some remedy for life, some cure;
but daring deeds do not bring happiness
to one who, finally, has no desire.

Portugal bred me in my dear and green
homeland of Alenquer; but corrupt air
trapped in my vessel, in this blood and bone,

mand me a morsel for your fish, cruel
sea, breaking on barren Abyssinia
so distant from my fertile native soil.