A story
About a young English boy.
He always dreamt about glory
And only it could bring him joy.
And all the things he did too well,
He tried to be the best,
His life became a kind of hell,
He never stopped to have a rest.
He was an outstanding man,
He had achieved a lot.
He never walked, he always ran,
But happiness still had he not.
When it was time for him to die
He understood at last
That he had never even tried
To live not so fast,
That he had never seen Sunrise,
The Moon, the stars, rays of the Sun.
He understood - it wasn't wise
To live a life like he had done.
Свидетельство о публикации №107100100558
Диана Давоян 01.10.2007 23:39 Заявить о нарушении
Best regards,
Alexandra.
Александра Приступа 02.10.2007 08:57 Заявить о нарушении