As She Passes Poem by Fernando Pessoa
As She Passes
When I am sitting at the window,
Through the panes, which the snow blurs,
I see the lovely images, hers, as
She passes… passes… passes by…
Over me grief has thrown its veil:-
Less a creature in this world
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…
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8/23/2026 12:27:49 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
