[مهرگان]

نوشته اصلی توسط audery

Break, break, break

Break, break, break

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea


And I would that my tongue could utter


The thoughts that arise in me


O, well for the fisherman's boy

That he shouts with his sister at play


O, well for the sailor lad


That he sings in his boat on the bay


And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill


But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand


And the sound of a voice that is still


Break, break, break

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea


But the tender grace of a day that is dead


Will never come back to me.

by: Alfred lord Tennyson

ترجمه از: خودم

hello my dear friend, tnx a lot for the nice choise i loved that part i marked, because i feel the poet.
nice, nice, very nice . . .