Vídeo de Kristine Byrne - texto Emily Dickinson
254
“Esperanza”
es la cosa con plumas –
Que
se posa en el alma –
Canta
la melodía sin palabras –
Y
no se para – nunca –
La
más dulce – que en la Galerna – se oye –
Y
áspera la tormenta debe ser –
Que
abatir pueda el Pajarillo
Que
dio calor a tantos –
En
la más fría tierra la he oído –
Y
en el Mar más ajeno –
Aunque,
nunca, en Apuros,
Me
ha pedido una miga.
(Traducción
de Margarita Ardanaz)
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Más
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Más
