martes, 1 de enero de 2013


CELEBRATE myself;
 
And what I assume you shall assume; 
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you. 
  
I loafe and invite my Soul; 
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.         5
  
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes; 
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it; 
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. 
  
The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless; 
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;  10
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked; 
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

Walt Whitman
 
  

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