Sunday, August 1, 2010

Robert Frost... Jack Frost.... Algo

La vara es que Muri_mu me enseñó hace dias un link donde podía leer poesía de Robert Frost. Y decidí hacer una lista de las que mas me gustaban para postearlas en partes acá. Pero resultó que son tantas que empecé a pensar que iban a ser varias entradas aburridisimas. Despues me acordé de Jack Frost:

Despues hice mi Jack Frost:

Despues leí esta que está chivisima:

Ghost House

I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O´er ruined fences the grape-vines shield,
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me--
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
By Robert Frost

Y despues vi esto:

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