Читать книгу The Last Light of the Sun - Guy Gavriel Kay - Страница 5

I have a tale for you: a stag bells;

winter pours summer has gone.

The wind is high, cold; the sun is low;

its course is short the sea is strong running.

The bracken is very red; its shape has been hidden.

The cry of the barnacle goose has become usual.

Cold has taken the wings of birds.

Season of ice; this is my tale.

—FROM THE LIBER HYMNORUM MANUSCRIPT