Hope is the thing with feathers - by Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

 

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

 

 

所有跟帖： 

• 谢谢！很喜欢她的，翻译过一些来玩 -颤音- ♂ (0 bytes) () 03/19/2021 postreply 08:15:38

• 好雅兴！ -盈盈一笑间- ♀ (0 bytes) () 03/19/2021 postreply 08:30:34