El pasto tiene tan poco que hacer-
una esfera de simple verde-
sólo con mariposas que abrigar
y abejas que entretener-
y agitarse todo el día ante las lindas tonadas
que la brisa le va alcanzando-
y mantener a los rayos de luz en su falda
y hacerle reverencias a todo-
y enhebrar el rocío toda la noche, como perlas-
y volverse tan sutil
que una Duquesa sería gente ordinaria
como para darse cuenta-
e incluso cuando muere- lo hace
con aromas tan divinos-
como humildes especias, listas para dormir-
o si no como nardos, pereciendo-
y después, residir en soberanos graneros-
y dejar atrás los días soñando,
el pasto tiene tan poco que hacer
que yo quisiera ser un fardo de pasto seco-
The Grass so little has to do –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –
And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –
And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –
And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –
And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –
