Cajita de los recuerdos
Hoy no escribo yo, escriben lecturas amigas que no se fueron con el viento. Serán varios días para recordar diferentes momentos y con ellos compartir sus cuentos y versos.
Found.
.... y como olvidar a quien vendió su alma a Mefistófeles a cambio de juventud eterna ...
... To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow; Me doth thy strong entreaty bow-- Lo! I am here I--What cowering agitationGrasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry? Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy, To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved? Where art thou, Faust? whose voice I heard resound, Who towards me press'd with energy profound? Art thou he? Thou,--who by my breath art blighted, Who, in his spirit's depths alfrighted, Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm! ...
Found.
ONCE through the forest
Alone I went; To seek for nothing
My thoughts were bent.
I saw i' the shadow
A flower stand there As stars it glisten'd,
As eyes 'twas fair.
I sought to pluck it,--
It gently said:"Shall I be gather'd
Only to fade?"
With all its roots
I dug it with care, And took it home
To my garden fair.
In silent corner
Soon it was set; There grows it ever,
There blooms it yet.
1815.
My thoughts were bent.
I saw i' the shadow
A flower stand there As stars it glisten'd,
As eyes 'twas fair.
I sought to pluck it,--
It gently said:"Shall I be gather'd
Only to fade?"
With all its roots
I dug it with care, And took it home
To my garden fair.
In silent corner
Soon it was set; There grows it ever,
There blooms it yet.
1815.
.... y como olvidar a quien vendió su alma a Mefistófeles a cambio de juventud eterna ...
... To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow; Me doth thy strong entreaty bow-- Lo! I am here I--What cowering agitationGrasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry? Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy, To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved? Where art thou, Faust? whose voice I heard resound, Who towards me press'd with energy profound? Art thou he? Thou,--who by my breath art blighted, Who, in his spirit's depths alfrighted, Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm! ...
posted by No Displayed at 9:57 a.m.
4 Comments:
how many times do I have to try to tell you that I am sorry for the thing I've done... I remember that poem, when I read it, I listen your voice and I know you've gone ... it hurts me.
me encanta tu blog, yo escribo re mal, jua!!! traducción de esto ultimo porfavor. bueno ri, me encantaría verte y charlar con vos, siempre se aprende algo nuevo de vos. espero pronto.
hey ri, flaquin, te me pierdes loquin, en qué andabas? avisame si venís a la argentina para tu cumple, tengo una sorpresa para vos.
aparte tenes que estar en el mio eh! bueno beso.
holaaa mocos, chida web, sabes soy super indio con eso de la lectura pero visualmente super padrisisima, me pregunto antonia por ti, volvio de francia, donde esta mi fideo? ja no te enojes asi me dijo jajaja, mocos saludame a tus viejillos ....... quien te viera mocos, embarra uno a mi salud, ja
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