samedi 12 décembre 2009

[On a winter day/Une journée d'hiver]

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.

A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.

Emily DICKINSON, Selected poems and letters

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