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❛Cisne salvaje❜. ─ William Butler Yeats,

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.
The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?
Source: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989).

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Cisne salvaje  William Butler Yeats

❛La niña que se va al mar❜. ─ Alberti.

¡qué blanca lleva la falda
la niña que se va al mar!
¡ay niña, no te la manche
la tinta del calamar!
¡qué blancas tus manos, niña,
que te vas sin suspirar!
¡ay niña, no te las manche
la tinta del calamar!
¡qué blanco tu corazón
y qué blanco tu mirar!
¡ay niña, no te los manche
la tinta del calamar!
La niña que se va al mar  Alberti

Derek Walcott — ❛ Love After Love. ❜

✒ A poem about forgiving yourself.
A poem about finding how to love yourself. Unconditionally.
"The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life".
Derek Walcott   Love After Love

Augusta Davies Webster — Circe.

"The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm."
Augusta Davies Webster  Circe

Language: English