Young Man:
[reciting a poem]
Night. The oil in my lamp is low, Mosquitoes whine about me, That handful of stars above, Mother, are they you? Are you the white sail on the lake, Or the waves that lap the shore? Have you strewn my pages with stardust?
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:59
Consiglia
Voto
Nessun dato in archivio
Commenti
Nessun dato in archivio
