9/10
2024 91. kitabı
Reklam
I love autumn and the shade of meanings.
Delighted in autumn by a light obscurity,
transparency of handkerchiefs, like poetry just after
birth, dazzled in the night-blaze or darkness.
It crawls, and finds no names for anything.
Shy rain, which moistens only distant things,
delights me.
(In such autumns, marriage procession and funeral intersect: the living celebrate with the dead, and the dead celebrate with the living.)
Sen daima sensindir, bu değişmez. Sen her zaman değişirsin ve bu konuda yapabileceğin bir şey yoktur.
