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Olafciteerde uitvorig jaar
Digtet her er skrevet af W.H. Auden. Det er fra 1938.
I aften er det fra mig til dig:
Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was
Erik Langelundciteerde uit2 jaar geleden
Nede i hjørnet sidder to småbitte mennesker på stranden med ryggen til beskueren og iagttager solnedgangen.
Erik Langelundciteerde uit2 jaar geleden
Nede i hjørnet sidder to småbitte mennesker på stranden med ryggen til beskueren og iagttager solnedgangen.
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