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Meantime

Fernando Pessoa

The Athenaeum 4683, 30 de janeiro de 1920, p. 136.

  • 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.