Bueno, no, pero hay veces en las que uno preferiría no saber ciertas cosas. No sé, tal vez tantos días encerrada, leyendo noticias sobre enfermedad y muerte, me han trastornado un poco.
Para bajar un poco la tensión (por lo menos la mía) compartiré un poema de John Donne, espero les guste.
Death be not proud-John Donne
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
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