Patrick Kavanagh (Патрик Каванах)

Wet Evening in April

The birds sang in the wet trees
And I listened to them it was a hundred years from now
And I was dead and someone else was listening to them.
But I was glad I had recorded for him
The melancholy.

1. Epic
2. Stony Grey Soil
3. Memory of My Father
4. Advent
5. On Raglan Road

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1730

Последние стихотворения

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