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Ξ December 1st, 2006 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Arts, Photography |




    Evgeniy Shaman




    Rain

    Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
    On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
    Remembering again that I shall die
    And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
    For washing me cleaner than I have been
    Since I was born into this solitude.
    Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:

    But here I pray that none whom once I loved
    Is dying to-night or lying still awake
    Solitary, listening to the rain,
    Either in pain or thus in sympathy
    Helpless among the living and the dead,
    Like a cold water among broken reeds,
    Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
    Like me who have no love which this wild rain
    Has not dissolved except the love of death,

    If love it be towards what is perfect and
    Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.

    - Edward Thomas

 

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