Tired

Another Bike Ride with Falling Snow in April

I am Tired by Fernando Pessoa

I am tired, that is clear,
Because, at certain stage, people have to be tired.
Of what I am tired, I don't know:
It would not serve me at all to know
Since the tiredness stays just the same.
The wound hurts as it hurts
And not in function of the cause that produced it.
Yes, I am tired,
And ever so slightly smiling
At the tiredness being only this -
In the body a wish for sleep,
In the soul a desire for not thinking
And, to crown all, a luminous transparency
Of the retrospective understanding…
And the one luxury of not now having hopes?
I am intelligent: that's all.
I have seen much and understood much of what I
have seen.
And there is a certain pleasure even in tiredness
this brings us,
That in the end the head does still serve for
something.

Two days in a row students have commented on my tired appearance.  Both times the comments were meant to be caring yet weren't worded positively.  Life is kicking me in the ass (biking in the miserable weather, conferences, upcoming events, piloting program with Chrome Books...).  All is going well to quite well, but it is leaving me tired.  After another bike ride in the falling snow, my only intention for the evening is to stay inside with lit candles and my new bouquet of tulips (The only spring in this crazy April).