Tropiezas con la realidad, corres a por tu sueños.

domingo, 17 de abril de 2011


What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grive not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Wich having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that srping
Out of human suffering;
In te faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
by William Wordsworth

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