martes, 8 de junio de 2010

Her Anxiety, William Butler Yeats

Earth in beauty dressed
Awaits returning spring.
All true love must die,
Alter at the best
Into some lesser thing.
Prove that I lie.

Such body lovers have,
Such exacting breath,
That they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.
Prove that I lie.

1 comentario:

Nacho Mazariegos dijo...

A terrible beauty is born