Читать книгу Cardos y lluvia - Kate Clanchy - Страница 13

How often I turn round

To face the beast that bound by bound

Leaps on me from behind,

Only to see a bough that heaves

With sudden gust of wind

Or blackbird raking withered leaves.

A dog may find me out

Or badger toss a white-lined snout;

And one day as I softly trod

Looking for nothing stranger than

A fox or stoat I met a man

And even that seemed not too odd.

And yet in any place I go

I watch and listen as all creatures do

For what I cannot see or hear,

For something warns me everywhere

That even in my land of birth

I trespass on the earth.