Mertcan Bulak
@MBulak
1183 okur puanı
Ağustos 2020 tarihinde katıldı
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o’erfraught heart and bids it break.
Alas, poor country,
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be called our mother, but our grave; where nothing
But who knows nothing is once seen to smile;
Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air
Are made, not marked ; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy .
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
It is concluded! Banquo, thy soul’s flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out tonight.
Is’t night’s predominance or the day’s shame
That darkness does the face of earth entomb
When living light should kiss it?