“If you love me as you say you do,' she whispered, 'make it so that I am at peace.”
― Anna Karenina
― Anna Karenina
“Is it really possible to tell someone else what one feels?”
― Anna Karenina
― Anna Karenina
“Sobre la falda tenia
el libro abierto;
en mi mejilla tocaban
sus rizos negros;
no veiamos las letras
ninguno, creo;
mas guardabamos entrambos
hondo silencio.
Cuanto duro? Ni aun entonces
pude saberlo;
solo se que no se oia
mas que el aliento,
que apresurado escapaba
del labio seco.
Solo se que nos volvimos
los dos a un tiempo,
y nuestros ojos se hallaron,
y sono un beso.
Creacion de Dante era el libro,
era su Infierno.
Cuando a el bajamos los ojos,
yo dije, tremulo:
Comprendes ya que un poema
cabe en un verso?"
Y ella respondio, encendida:
Ya lo comprendo!"
On her skirt she had
an open book
on my cheek
her black locks of hair
we didn't see the letters
any of them, I think
though we kept between us
a deep silence
How much did it last? Not even then
I could know
I only know that I couldn't hear
anything more than her breath
that fastly went out
of her dry lips
I only know that we both
turned our sight at same time
and our eyes met the other
and a kiss was heard
The creation of Dante was the book
it was its Inferno
when we both turned down the eyes to it
I said, trembling:
'Do you already understand that a poem
fits in a verse?''
And she answered lightened up:
I understand!”
―
el libro abierto;
en mi mejilla tocaban
sus rizos negros;
no veiamos las letras
ninguno, creo;
mas guardabamos entrambos
hondo silencio.
Cuanto duro? Ni aun entonces
pude saberlo;
solo se que no se oia
mas que el aliento,
que apresurado escapaba
del labio seco.
Solo se que nos volvimos
los dos a un tiempo,
y nuestros ojos se hallaron,
y sono un beso.
Creacion de Dante era el libro,
era su Infierno.
Cuando a el bajamos los ojos,
yo dije, tremulo:
Comprendes ya que un poema
cabe en un verso?"
Y ella respondio, encendida:
Ya lo comprendo!"
On her skirt she had
an open book
on my cheek
her black locks of hair
we didn't see the letters
any of them, I think
though we kept between us
a deep silence
How much did it last? Not even then
I could know
I only know that I couldn't hear
anything more than her breath
that fastly went out
of her dry lips
I only know that we both
turned our sight at same time
and our eyes met the other
and a kiss was heard
The creation of Dante was the book
it was its Inferno
when we both turned down the eyes to it
I said, trembling:
'Do you already understand that a poem
fits in a verse?''
And she answered lightened up:
I understand!”
―
“I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.”
―
―
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