Kettle-Song
I
Ivor Gurney
0
Altın Yaprak
The worry and low murmur
Of the black kettle are set
Against my unquiet achings
And vanish, so strong is the fret.
Such tangles and evil-skeined fibres
Of living so matted are grown
That water-song is hardly noticed
For all its past comfortings known.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş