To nothing can your hands, now things, appeal

To nothing can your hands, now things, appeal,
Nor can your now stiff lips persuade,
               In the oppressive depths
               Of damp, inflicted earth.
Perhaps just the smile from when you loved
Embalms you, far away, and in our memories
                Lifts you to what you were,
                Today a rotten hive.
And the useless name that your dead body
Used, like a soul, when alive on earth
                Is forgotten. This ode engraves
                An anonymous smile.

                                                          May 1927

PESSOA, Fernando, A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems, Edited and Translated by Richard Zenith. New York /London, Penguin Books, 2006, p. 120