The Gods of the torment and the giants of the land
Suddenly suspend the hatred of their war
And are astounded. Through the valley of sky's ascension
A silence emerges, and moves, from the mist waving the veils,
First a movement and then astonishment.
By its side, while it lasts, the fears, shoulder by shoulder,
And away, the trail roars in clouds and gleams.

Down below, where land is, the shepherd freezes, and he drops
the flute, and in ecstasy he sees, by the light of a thousand thunders,
The sky opening the abyss to the Argonaut's soul.

Fernando Pessoa, Message