terça-feira, 18 de agosto de 2009


In my garden,
the winds have beaten
the ripe lilies;
in my garden, the salt
has wilted the first flakes
of young narcissus,
and the lesser hyacinth
and the salt has crept
under the leaves of the white hyacinth.

In my garden
even the wind-flowers lie fiat,
broken by the wind at last.

Hilda Doolittle
(EUA, 1886-1961)

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