Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone ...

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone


W. H. Auden


Stop all the clocks, 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 policemen 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.

Kommentarer
Postat av: Catarina

Den är så fin den dikten.

(och jag vet ju att du gillar filmen också)

2009-06-26 @ 09:48:07
URL: http://ninna77.blogspot.com
Postat av: Anonym

No Words

Author: Richard Hayman Ricky



What is there left

When there is nothing left to say

When you are faced with a choice

Of whether to stay or walk away.



What is there left

When there is nothing left to feel

When you let pride get in the way

And when the problems seem too real.



What is there left

When there is nothing left to be spoken

When you realize it's a new day

But your heart remains broken.



What is there left

When you lose touch

When you finally realize

That she loved you so much.



What is there left

When you cry for her gentle memory

When you cherish all you had

Before her untimely tragedy.

2009-07-06 @ 14:35:29

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