Meantime
Fernando Pessoa / Ritchie
Far away, far away
Far away from here
There is no sorrow after joy
Nor away from fear
Far away from here
Her lips were not very red
Nor her hair quite gold
Her hands played with rings
She did not let me hold
Her hands, playing with gold
She is somewhere past
Far away from pain
Joy can touch her not
Nor hope enter her domain
Neither love in vain
Perhaps at some day beyond
Shadows and light
She will think of me
And make for me a delight
Far away from sight