Emily Dickinson

Ando descubriendo los poemas de Emily Dickinson. Son íntimos y delicados, como los pétalos de una flor secreta. Leerla me hace sentir espía

I died for beauty but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb,

When one who died for truth was lain

In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?

"For beauty," I replied.

"And I for truth,--the two are one;

We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,

We talked between the rooms,

Until the moss had reached our lips,

And covered up our names.