Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
Epitaph on a tyrant
© Copyright: Уистан Оден, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108021601597
Свидетельство о публикации №108021601597
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