A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
(James Joyce, Dubliners)
4 comments:
Por un momento he creído que nevaba de verdad. Atmósfera cautivadora la del vídeo. Pero el solazo que hace fuera me ha arrancado de ese estado. Sólo las frías ráfagas de viento me recuerdan que estamos en invierno.
Aquí tampoco está nevando, pero hace un frío que ya nos podía caer un poquito. La imágenes del vídeo son de Montreal. Otro artista anónimo que nos hace disfrutar...
Me encanta la nieve, y me encanta ese fragmento de "Dublineses" :)
Pues me encanta que te encante. Todos encantados, pues.
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