Posts Tagged ‘Dover editions’


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.

Emily Dickinson, 18301886


nesses tantos lugares desconhecidos

onde o fim começa

nem a noite tem pressa

em ficar sem sentidos


       no chão de faia

       e dita toda a poesia triste

       se é que ela existe

       ou é apenas um modo de viver

       um fim sem morrer

       sob uma manta puída

       jaz um parágrafo da vida

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[minha foto de outrora]

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.


[Emily Dickinson]

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Delight becomes

Delight becomes pictorial
When viewed through pain
More fair, because impossible
That any gain

The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,
And that’s the skies!

Emily Dickinson
Dover Thrift Editions 1990

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