Cada nueve de noviembre
... es nuestro aniversario. Y no veo que lleguen ramillitos de violetas anónimos.
Esto no lo cantan Manzanita ni Mecano, sino Rufus Wainwright, y es un soneto de Shakespeare, con su pareado final y todo.
Han estado por aquí Eva y Oscar. Hemos estado hablando de los primos vascos, de las sorpresas que te da la vida... y de divorcios y matrimonios y niños, claro.
3 comentarios
JoseAngel -
Alfonso Ansó Rojo -
Sonnet 29
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.
yo -