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. Over Sir John's Hill
2. On No Work of Words
3. We Lying by Seasand
4. Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
5. Ears in the Turrets Hear

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1743

Последние стихотворения

To English version