agonia espanol v3 |
Agonia.Net | Reglas | Mission | Contacto | Regístrate | ||||
Artículo Comunidades Concurso Ensayo Multimedia Personales Poemas Presa Prosa _QUOTE Guión Especial | ||||||
|
||||||
agonia Textos Recomendados
■ Tierra baldía
Romanian Spell-Checker Contacto |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-25 | [Este texto, tienes que leerlo en english] | Inscrito en la biblioteca por Valeria Pintea
The earth keeps some vibration going
There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you can fiddle, Why, fiddle you must, for all your life. What do you see, a harvest of clover? Or a meadow to walk through to the river? The wind's in the corn; you rub your hands For beeves hereafter ready for market; Or else you hear the rustle of skirts Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove. To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth; They looked to me like Red-Head Sammy Stepping it off, to "Toor-a-Loor." How could I till my forty acres Not to speak of getting more, With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos Stirred in my brain by crows and robins And the creak of a wind-mill--only these? And I never started to plow in my life That some one did not stop in the road And take me away to a dance or picnic. I ended up with forty acres; I ended up with a broken fiddle-- And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories, And not a single regret.
|
||||||||
La casa de la literatura | |||||||||
La reproducción de cualquier texto que pertenece al portal sin nuestro permiso està estrictamente prohibida.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Política de publicación et confidencialidad