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Robert Frost and E.Browning:
Here is also...
la traduzione in italiano della poesia di Elisabeth Browning
| Robert Frost (1874 - 1963) |
1. The Road Not Taken
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20
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American poet Robert Frost (1874-1963) reads "The Road Not Taken,"
"The Pasture," "Mowing," "Birches," "After Apple-Picking,"
and "The Tuft of Flowers."
.ra format(0.7 Mb).
(http://town.hall.org/Archives/radio/IMS/HarperAudio/012294_harp_01_ITH.ram)
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| The masterpiece of Meredith in team with Roberto |
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Sonnets from the Portuguese XLIII (by Elisabeth Barret Browing) How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life !--and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.ELISABETH BARRET BROWING |
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The traduction of Dalessandro - La traduzione di Dalessandro |
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"Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elisabeth Barret Browing and he is going to publish the book; Ecco la traduzione "in anteprima mondiale" del XLIII sonetto: Come ti amo? Lasciami contare i modi. Ti amo nell'altezza vastità e profondità che l'anima inosservata può raggiungere quando tende all'essenza e alla grazia ideale. Come le piccole cose necessarie ogni giorno, come il sole o una candela, ti amo, libera come chi per la giustizia combatte, ti amo, pura come chi rifugge gli onori. Ti amo con la stessa passione che metto nei vecchi dolori, con fede puerile. Con l'amore dei giorni perduti che credevo perduto, ti amo - col respiro col sorriso con il pianto di tutta una vita - ma se Dio vorrà ancora meglio t'amerò dopo la morte. |
Meredith
