Explore "Meantime" by Fernando Pessoa on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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 something 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.