A poetry of W.H. Auden

ed ora una poesia

FUNERAL BLUES DI W.H. AUDEN
Stop all the clockst, 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 policeman 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 for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good

A little story of Woody Allen

Good morning

I have studied english last Saturday in the library. I have studied the ing-form and the infinitive.

I have also contacted my friends who have studied Enghish with me next winter. I have ridden their e-mail. Sometimes the go to the house to watch a film but I have not much time. I prefer to study English and informatics. I have difficult to study the preposition but I’m collecting a lot of English lesson.

I’m reading a story written by Woody Allen on the New Yorker. The story was published on October 2006. The story is Pinchuck’s Law and is a detective story. I can read it with a dictionary and with some help by a translation programm.