Rudyard Kipling «La Nuit Blanche»
La Nuit Blanche1 A much-discerning Public hold The Singer generally sings And prints and sells his past for gold. Whatever I may here disclaim, The very clever folk I sing to Will most indubitably cling to Their pet delusion, just the same. I had seen, as the dawn was breaking And I staggered to my rest, Tari Devi softly shaking From the Cart Road to the crest. I had seen the spurs of Jakko Heave and quiver, swell and sink. Was it Earthquake or tobacco, Day of Doom, or Night of Drink? In the full, fresh fragrant morning I … Читать далее →