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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 2
II.
I
bring
an
unusual
wine
To
lips
long
parched,
close
to
mine,
And
invite
them
to
drink.
Feverishly
they
attempt;
I
avert
my
overflowing
eyes,
And
return
the
next
hour
to
see.
The
hands
still
clutch
the
tardy
glass;
The
lips
I
wished
to
cool,
alas!
Are
so
unnecessarily
cold,
I
would
as
soon
try
to
warm
The
hearts
where
frost
has
lain
For
ages
beneath
the
earth.
Some
other
thirsty
soul
may
be
To
whom
this
would
have
led
me
If
it
had
remained
to
speak.
And
so
I
always
carry
the
cup
If,
perhaps,
mine
may
be
the
drop
To
quench
some
pilgrim's
thirst—
If,
perhaps,
any
say
to
me,
Unto
the
little,
unto
me,
When
I
finally
awaken.
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