Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography– Volcanoes nearer here A lava step at any time Am I inclined to climb– A Crater I … - Emily Dickinson

Morir no es casi nada, algo pasado, pero vivir incluye el morir muchas veces sin tener al alivio de estar muerto.

Piangere è una piccola cosa -
cosa tanto breve un sospiro.
Ma cose di tale grandezza
uccidono uomini e donne.

"I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes;
I wonder if It weighs like Mine,
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long,
Or did it just begin?
I could not tell the Date of Mine,
It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,
And if They have to try,
And whether, could They choose between,
It would not be, to die.

I note that Some — gone patient long — At length, renew their smile.
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil.

I wonder if when Years have piled,
Some Thousands — on the Harm
Of early hurt — if such a lapse
Could give them any Balm;

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger Pain
By Contrast with the Love.

The Grieved are many,
I am told;
The reason deeper lies, — Death is but one
and comes but once,
And only nails the eyes.

There's Grief of Want
and Grief of Cold, — A sort they call "Despair";
There's Banishment from native Eyes,
In sight of Native Air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly, yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the Cross,
And how they're mostly worn,
Still fascinated to presume
That Some are like My Own."