teisipäev, 31. märts 2015

Ükskõik, kuidas inimene sureb, surema peame ükskord kõik. Kas sureme täna, homme või aasta pärast, see on rohkem maitse asi. Peaasi, et oleme elanud. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1875-1950)- oli ameerika ulme- ja fantaasiaromaanide autor

Pühendan selle kauni poeemi oma sõbrale Sulevile, kes lahkus täna öösel sinna, kust tagasi ei tulda.....

She comes down from Yellow Mountain
On a dark, flat land she rides
On a pony she named Wildfire
With a whirlwind by her side
On a cold Nebraska night

Oh, they say she died one winter
When there came a killing frost
And the pony she named Wildfire
Busted down it's stall
In a blizzard he was lost

She ran calling Wildfire
By the dark of the moon I planted
But there came an early snow
There's been a hoot-owl howling by my window now
For six nights in a row
She's coming for me, I know
And on Wildfire we're both gonna go

We'll be riding Wildfire

On Wildfire we're gonna ride
Gonna leave sodbustin' behind
Get these hard times right on out of our minds
Riding Wildfire

Michael Martin Murphey