Жанр: Лирика: Стихи на иностранных языках Прочтений: 0 Посещений: 1734 Дата публикации: 3.7.2006
Part One
The door of the carriage slapped;
Dirt had besmirched the wheels.
I opened the autumn’s umbrella
And slowly took my leave
I covered myself with the tabard -
all but weary and troubled;
I considered myself a sentinel
Part Two
The quill lies dying
The ink has ceased
One futile trying –
The soul is relieved
Part Three
He was the skillful theft
And the guests have left