agonia magyar v3 |
Agónia - Művészeti Műhelyek | Szabályo | Mission | Lépj kapcsolatba velün | Regisztrál | ||||
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Cikk Közösségek Pályazat Esszé Multimédia Személyese Vers Sajt? Próza _QUOTE Forgatókönyv Speciáli | ||||||
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-02-23 | [Ezt a szöveget a következ. nyelven kell olvasni english] | Könyvtárba beírt Midrigan Mihai
The old farmer, nearing death, asked
To be carried outside and set down Where he could see a certain field ''And then I will cry my heart out,'' he said. It troubles me, thinking about that man; What shape was the field of his crying Is Donegal? I remember a small field in Down, a field Within fields, shaped like a triangle. I could have stood there and looked at it All day long. And I remember crossing the frontier between France and Spain at a forbidden point, and seeing A small triangular field in Spain, And stopping. Or walking in Ireland down any rutted by-road To where it hit the highway, there was always At this turning-point an abutment A still centre, a V-shape of grass Untouched by cornering traffic, Where country lands larked at night. I think I know what the shape of the field was That made the old man weep.
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Az irodalom, kultúra és vers háza. Írj és élvezd a cikkeket, esszéket, prózát, klasszihus verseket és versenyeket | ![]() | |||||||
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