I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:
Penelope did this too.
And more than once: you can't keep weaving all day
And undoing it all through the night;
Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight;
And along towards morning, when you think it will never be light,
And your husband has been gone, and you don't know where, for years.
Suddenly you burst into tears;
There is simply nothing else to do.
And I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:
This is an ancient gesture, authentic, antique,
In the very best tradition, classic, Greek;
Ulysses did this too.
But only as a gesture,—a gesture which implied
To the assembled throng that he was much too moved to speak.
He learned it from Penelope...
Penelope, who really cried.
.........very imaginative, truly original ★
I'm almost positive there is not a single person out there who's arms have never lofted to make this gesture! As she says, sometimes there's just nothing else you can do!
esta bien esa es una historia muy bonita
A unique and touching poem. Beautifully expressed.
She comnects her predicament her husband running out on her. She dried out her tears on her apron as her ancestors did. It got to me
Even today this practice is going on if people happen to be romantic and sentimental in characters!
ahh....ahH...aHH... AHH CHOOOO! this is old and dusty. it made me sneeze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight, VERY GOOD,