Читать книгу THE JAMES JOYCE COLLECTION - 5 Books in One Edition - James Joyce, James Joyce - Страница 38

All day I hear the noise of waters Making moan,

Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone,

He hears the winds cry to the water’s Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing Where I go.

I hear the noise of many waters

Far below.

All day, all night, I hear them flowing To and fro.