1 мин
Слушать(AI)Encounter
We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.
And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.
That was long ago.
Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.
Czeslaw Milosz
Czesław Miłosz (30 June 1911 – 14 August 2004) was a Polish-American poet, prose writer, translator, and diplomat. Regarded as one of the great
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Window
I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple treetranslucent in brightness And when I looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden withfruit stood there Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of whathappene...
Statue of a Couple
Your hand, my wonder, is now icy cold The purest light of the celestial domehas burned me through And now we areas two still plams lying in darlmess,as two black banks of a frozen streamin the chasm of the world Our hair combed back...
A Poem For the End of the Century
When everything was And the notion of sin had And the earth was In universal
Late Ripeness
Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I enteredthe clarity of early morning One after another my former lives were departing,like ships, together with their sorrow And the countries,...
