O pagină albă

Nu are rost să mă prefac: nu am timp să scriu ceva cît de cît coerent. Aş putea să zic ce cred eu despre una – alta, dar prefer s-o fac în comentarii, dacă se va ivi ocazia. Şi cum nu pot lăsa o pagină chiar goală, am pus mai jos o poezie. Ce-ar fi ca fiecare să aducă o poezie care i s-a agăţat de suflet în ultima perioadă?

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I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –