Emily Dickinson: Il suo volto era un letto di chiome, Come fiori in
Il suo volto era un letto di chiome,
Come fiori in un prato-
La sua mano era pi� bianca dell'olio
che bruciando alimenta le luci sacre.
La sua lingua era pi� tenera
dell'armonia che oscilla nelle foglie-
chi l'ascolta pu� rimanere incredulo,
ma chi ne fa esperienza crede.
Emily Dickinson
Pi� citazioni Emily Dickinson
Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New life"...
No Notice gave She, but a Change -
No Message, but a Sigh -
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill -
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And p...