For in all she said, however open she seemed and voluptuous, there was something hidden; in all she did, however daring, there was something concealed. So the green flame seems hidden in the emerald, or the sun prisoned in a hill. The clearness was only outward; within was a wandering flame. (...) Orlando went wild in his transports and swept her over the ice, faster, faster, vowing that he would chase the flame, dive for the gem, and so on and so on, the words coming on the pants of his breath with the passion of a poet whose poetry is half pressed out of him by pain.
Orlando, Virginia Woolf
[Harcourt, 2006]
2 comentaris:
...vaya...esto...lo admito...y tambièn equivocarse...y tambièn admitir
prometiò perseguir la llama...vowing that he would chase the flame.his breath with the passion.half pressed out him by pain
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