Poesía y traducción

William Faulkner


XLIV [A Green Bough]

If there be grief, then let it be but rain,
And this but silver grief for grieving's sake,
If these green woods be dreaming here to wake
Within my heart, if I should rouse again.

But I shall sleep, for where is any death
While in these blue hills slumbrous overhead
I'm rooted like a tree? Though I be dead,
This earth that holds me fast will find me breath.

***


William Faulkner es traducido por:

- Eduardo Moga

Publicado el 20/5/2010



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