In the Dead Afternoon’s Gold More by Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935)

I first heard this poem on the radio a couple of weeks ago and every word resonated through me, and they still do.

In the dead afternoon’s gold more –
The no-place gold dust of late day
Which is sauntering past my door
And will not stay –

In the silence, still touched with gold,
Of the woods’ green ending, I see
The memory. You were fair of old
And are in me …

Though you’re not there, your memory is
And, you not anyone, your look.
I shake as you come like a breeze
And I mourn some good …

I’ve lost you. Never had you. The hour
Soothes my anguish so as to leave,
In my remembering being, the power
To feel love,

Though loving be a thing to fear,
A delusory and vain haunting,
And the night of this vague desire
Have no morning.


Fernando Pessoa, tr. Jonathon Griffin