Dylan Thomas (Дилан Томас)

Clown in the Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

1. Being But Men
2. When I Woke
3. Holy Spring
4. Into Her Lying Down Head
5. Out of the Sighs

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1626

Последние стихотворения

To English version