Memory Of My Father
Автор книги Patrick Kavanagh
Время прослушивания 00:35,
Дата публикации
Средний уровень
Ностальгия
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Every old man I see.
Reminds me of my father.
When he had fallen in love with death.
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street.
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician.
Faltering over his fiddle.
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see.
In October-coloured weather.
Seems to say to me:
I was once your father.
