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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 17
XVII.
ASLEEP.
As
far
from
pity
as
complaint,
As
indifferent
to
speech
as
stone,
As
numb
to
revelation
As
if
my
trade
were
bone.
As
distant
from
time
as
history,
As
close
to
you
today
As
children
to
the
rainbow's
scarf,
Or
sunset's
golden
play
To
eyelids
in
the
sepulcher.
How
still
the
dancer
lies,
While
colors'
revelations
break,
And
blaze
the
butterflies!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana