Κυριακή, 27 Ιουνίου 2010


Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And som when they are old
Some strangle with the hand of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
some sell and others buy
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.

He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
Into an empty space

Aπό το "Τhe Ballad of Reading Gaol" του Oscar Wilde

2 σχόλια:

Papatragos είπε...

"He does not die a death of shame"

He/she should!

Πολύ όμορφο :)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - είπε...

To διάβασα τέτοια περίοδο περίπου πέρισυ και μου έκανε μεγάλη αίσθηση, κάπως ήθελα και θέλω να το αφιερώσω σε όλους/ες τους φίλους κ συντρόφους που κάνουν βήματα μπροστά. Τα χρειαζόμαστε! χαίρομαι που σου άρεσε!