Wystan Hugh Auden (Уистен Хью Оден)

I Have No Gun, But I Can Spit

Some thirty inches from my nose
The frontier of my Person goes,
And all the untilled air between
Is private pagus or demesne.
Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes
I beckon you to fraternize,
Beware of rudely crossing it:
I have no gun, but I can spit.

1. Woods
2. Though the Night Is Gone
3. Taller To-Day, We Remember Similar Evenings
4. We Too Had Known Golden Hours
5. Thanksgiving for a Habitat

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1788

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