Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн)

Training

Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
Love must not kiss my face pale that is brown.

My lips, parting, shall drink space, mile by mile;
Strong meats be all my hunger; my renown
Be the clean beauty of speed and pride of style.

Cold winds encountered on the racing Down
Shall thrill my heated bareness; but awhile
None else may meet me till I wear my crown. 

1. Beauty
2. With an Identity Disc
3. The Unreturning
4. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson
5. Inspection

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1752

Последние стихотворения

To English version