Adaptación: El paso de las horas (Ella Higginson)

El paso de las horas

Las horas pasan y roban sin miedos,
tan leves que su andar no me despierta;
me rozan con la punta de sus dedos
para saber si sueño o estoy muerta.

Y aunque en su viaje me recorran lentas,
me hunden el alma sus pasos seguros;
su toque habrá forjado heridas cruentas
cuando estos tersos días sean ya años duros.

Ella Higginson
Versión al español de J. Darío Bravo (6/9/2018 y 8/9/2018)
Original: https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/passing-hours.


The hours steal by with still, unasking lips—
So lightly that I cannot hear their tread;
And softly touch me with their finger-tips
To find if I be dreaming, or be dead.

And yet however still their flight may be,
Their ceaseless going weights my heart with tears;
These touches will have wrought deep scars on me—
When the light hours have worn to heavy years.

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