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Mostrando entradas de abril, 2013

The Sleeper, por Edgar Allan Poe

Imagen
At midnight in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapour, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top.
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the univeral valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin moulders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps! -- and lo! where lies
(Her easement open to the skies)
Irene, with her Destinies!










A medianoche, en el mes de junio,
permanezco de pie bajo la mística luna.
Un vapor de opio, como de rocío, tenue,
se desprende de su dorado halo,
y, lentamente manando, gota a gota,
sobre la cima de la tranquila montaña,
se desliza soñolienta y musicalmente
hasta el universal valle.
El romero cabecea sobre la tumba;
la lila se inclina sobre la ola;
abrazando la niebla e…