Am uitat ieri de poem, asa ca il postez astazi. Cine sa fie mai potrivit decat un poet care are, in numele si in poemul lui, cuvantul „frost”?
Asadar, Robert Frost, Looking for a sunset bird in winter
The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shooeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.
In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face;
A bird with an angelic gift
Was singing in it sweet and swift.
A single leaf was on a bough.
And that was all there was to see
In going twice around the tree.
From my advantage on a hill
I judged that such a crystal chill
Was only adding frost to snow
As gilt to gold that wouldn’ t show.
A brush had left a crooked stroke
Of what was either cloud or smoke
From north to south across the blue;
A piercing little star was through.