EN + ES
Escuchar
202
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 13
XIII.
THE
ORIOLE.
One
of
the
ones
that
Midas
touched,
Who
failed
to
touch
us
all,
Was
that
trusting
prodigal,
The
joyous
oriole.
So
intoxicated,
he
denies
it
With
divine
jest;
So
dazzling,
we
mistake
him
For
an
arriving
treasure.
A
pleader,
a
deceiver,
An
epicure,
a
thief,
—
At
times
an
oratorio,
An
ecstasy
in
chief;
The
Jesuit
of
orchards,
He
deceives
as
he
enchants
Of
a
whole
fragrance
For
his
fleeting
needs.
The
splendor
of
a
Burmah,
The
comet
of
birds,
Departing
like
a
spectacle
Of
ballads
and
of
bards.
I
never
thought
that
Jason
sought
For
any
golden
fleece;
But
then
I
am
a
rural
man,
With
thoughts
that
tend
to
peace.
But
if
there
were
a
Jason,
Tradition
allow
me
To
see
his
lost
reward
Upon
the
apple
tree.
||
||
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana