EN + ES
Escuchar
274
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 34
XXXV.
It
was
not
death,
for
I
stood
up,
And
the
dead
lie
down;
It
was
not
night,
for
all
the
bells
Rang
out
for
noon.
It
was
not
frost,
for
on
my
skin
I
felt
warm
winds
crawl,
—
Nor
fire,
for
my
cold
feet
Could
keep
a
chancel
cool.
Yet
it
felt
like
all
of
them;
The
figures
I
have
seen
Set
orderly
for
burial
Reminded
me
of
mine,
As
if
my
life
were
trimmed
And
placed
within
a
frame,
And
couldn't
breathe
without
a
key;
And
it
felt
like
midnight,
some,
When
all
that
ticks
has
stopped,
And
space
stares
all
around,
Or
icy
frosts,
first
autumn
morns,
Silence
the
beating
ground.
But
most
like
chaos,
endless,
cool,
—
Without
a
chance
or
spar,
Or
even
a
hint
of
land
To
justify
despair.
||
||
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B2 Inglés | Cuentana