[BNP/E3, 31A – 26-27]

48-49

L'Inconnue

Let thy hand set

     My hair back. Look

          Into mine eyes.

     There runs a brook

Right through the heat

     Of my hushed cries.

Let thy hand rest

     Upon my brow.

          Let thine eyes smile

Into the unrest

     Of mine eyes now

          Thine for a while.

Ay, forget not

     To let that touch

          Be felt by me,

Light like a thought

     Of it, and such

          As hope can be.

Let thy hand sweep

     Over my hair

          One little while.

I seem asleep

     But cannot bear

          To feel me smile.

All things have failed.

     All hopes are dead.

          All joys are brief.

               Ay, let thy hand,

As if it quailed

     From feeling sad,

          Give me relief!

          No matter if

               None understand.

Oh, on my brow

     Let thy hand be.

What life is now

     Is worth so little

     That pain seems brittle

And thought a slough.

Put my hair back

     From my brow's pain.

There runs a track

     Of lightness through

My heavy brain.

[27r]

49

L’Inconnue – 2

What does this mean?

     These are words set

          To an idle tune.

     What I regret

Hath never been.

     Lest my rest fret,

True rest, come soon!

                Fernando Pessoa