[BNP/E3, 49D1 – 31]

On my heart’s path the youthful grass yet grows,

By foot untouched it lies on sweet repose;

Oh may no tread ingrate the green waves crush

       Wanton nymph (in sweet and scornful rush)

Oh (maul the flowers) with careless on scorn;

In summer’s heat there opened the middle hours

With tender fingers {…}

I pluck with tender hand the simple flowers

Charles Robert

Anon

master

[31v]

FAN Pessôa 

FANPessôa

It is the fate of our humanness that we never can know the real Truth that shall satisfy all men. Let us then take the best we have got.