SILVA

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
On the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Wich is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

As mulheres percebem isto.
Nenhuma é duquesa
A uns cem metros da carruagem.
Eis então retratos:
Uma antecâmara preta;
Uma cama alta resguardada por cortinas.

São apenas exemplos.

At night, by the fire,