1 min read
Слушать(AI)As She Passes
When I am sitting at the window,
Through the panes, which the snow blurs,
I see the lovely images, hers,
She passes… passes… passes by…Over me grief has thrown its veil:-Less a creature in this
And one more angel in the sky.
When I am sitting at the window,
Through the panes, which the snow blurs,
I think I see the image, hers,
That's not now passing… not passing by…Translated by J.
Griffin
Fernando Pessoa
Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa (13 June 1888 – 30 November 1935) was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher and phi
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Sonnet XXI
Thought was born blind, but Thought knows what is seeing Its careful touch, deciphering forms from shapes, Still suggests form as aught whose proper Mere finding touch with erring darkness drapes
Sonnet X
As to a child, I talked my heart With empty promise of the coming day, And it slept rather for my words made
Sonnet IX
Oh to be idle loving idleness But I am idle all in hate of me; Ever in action's dream, in the false Of purposed action never set to be
Sonnet XII
As the lone, frighted user of a Suddenly turns round, nothing to detect, Yet on his fear's sense keepeth still the Of that brink-nothing he doth but suspect;
