Р А Б Ы. Slaves
The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank.
The windCrosses the brown land, unheard.
The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Slaves, run softly, till I end my song.
T.S. Eliot
Clutch and sink into the wet bank.
The windCrosses the brown land, unheard.
The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Slaves, run softly, till I end my song.
T.S. Eliot
Yosh cheklovlari: 12+
Huquq egasi: ООО "Издательские решения"
Original nashr sanasi: 2024
Nashr sanasi: 2024
nashriyot: Ridero
Qogʻoz sahifalar: 8
