Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.

I tell what I've told, out of listless
Sadness, so often before ...
I think you never listened,
So youraway you are.

All of a sudden, an absent
Stare, you look at me, still
Immeasurably distant,
You begin a smile.

I go on talking. You
Go on listening - your own
Thoughts you listen to,
The smile as good as gone,

Until, through the loafing
Afternoon's waste of while,
The silence self-unleafing
Of your useless smile.


(Portugal - 29.10.1935)

'Selected Poems' translated from Fernando Pessoa