-
MEANTIME
Far away, far away,
Far away from here . . .
There is no worry after joy
Or away from fear
Far away from here.
Her lips were not very red,
Nor her hair quite gold.
Her hands played with rings.
She did not let me hold
Her hands playing with gold.
She is somewhere past,
Far away from pain.
Joy can touch her not, nor hope
Enter her domain,
Neither love in vain.
Perhaps at some day beyond
Shadows and light
She will think of me and make
All me a delight,
All away from sight.
FERNANDO PESSOA.
-
MEANTIME
Far away, far away,
Far away from here . . .
There is no worry after joy
Or away from fear
Far away from here.
Her lips were not very red,
Nor her hair quite gold.
Her hands played with rings.
She did not let me hold
Her hands playing with gold.
She is somewhere past,
Far away from pain.
Joy can touch her not, nor hope
Enter her domain,
Neither love in vain.
Perhaps at some day beyond
Shadows and light
She will think of me and make
All me a delight,
All away from sight.
FERNANDO PESSOA.
Meantime
Fernando Pessoa
The Athenaeum 4683, 30 de janeiro de 1920, p. 136.
