agonia francais v3 |
Agonia.Net | Règles | Mission | Contact | Inscris-toi | ||||
Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
|
||||||
agonia Textes Recommandés
■ l'errant
Romanian Spell-Checker Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-06 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] | Inscrit à la bibliotèque par Miruna Dima
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent light: The breath of the moist earth is light Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight - The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods' - The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown: I sit upon the sands alone; The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion - How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around, Nor that Content, surpassing wealth, The sage in meditation found, And walk'd with inward glory crown'd - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure; Others I see whom these surround - Smiling they live, and call life pleasure; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. Yet now despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
|
||||||||
La maison de la litérature | |||||||||
La reproduction de tout text appartenant au portal sans notre permission est strictement interdite.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Politique de publication et confidetialité