[BNP/E3, 16A – 28]

p. 590 [843]

     I could not think of thee as piecèd rot,

Yet such thou wert, for thou hadst been long-dead;

Yet thou liv'd’st entire in my seeing thought

And what thou wert in me had never fled.

     Nay; I had fixed the moments of thy beauty,

Thy passing[1] smile, thy kiss's readiness;

And memory had taught my heart the duty

To know thee ever at that deathlessness.

     But when I came where thou wert laid, and saw

|The natural flowers sparkling unto starry flame[2] 

And the encroaching grass, with casual flaw,

Framing the stone to age where was thy name,

     I knew not how to feel, nor what to be

     Towards thy fate's material secrecy.

6-VIII-1910.

Fernando Pessôa.

 
[1] passing /ebbing\
[2] sparkling unto starry flame /ignoring |thee| sans /without\ blame,\