Liikmete kommentaarid
Vaadatud: 9290
|
agonia eesti v3 |
Agonia.Net | Poliitika | Mission | Kontakt | Osale | ||||
|
|
| |||||
| Artikkel Ühendused Võistlus Essee Multimeedia Personals Luule Press Proosa _QUOTE | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
agonia ![]()
Kontakt |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-03-07 | [This text should be read in english] | Submited by x
Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over! Huge moons there wax and wane- Again- again- again- Every moment of the night- Forever changing places- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial, One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down- still down- and down, With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circumference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be- O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea- Over spirits on the wing- Over every drowsy thing- And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light- And then, how deep!- O, deep! Is the passion of their sleep. In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like- almost anything- Or a yellow Albatross. They use that moon no more For the same end as before- Videlicet, a tent- Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies Of Earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again, (Never-contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings.
|
||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
| Kirjanduse, luule ja kultuuri kodu. Kirjuta ja naudi artikleid, esseesid, proosat, klassikalist luulet ja võistlusi. | |||||||||
Mistahes materjalide reprodutseerimine ilma meie nõusolekuta on rangelt keelatud.
Autoriõigus 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Privaatsus- ja avaldamispoliitika