Читать книгу And So I Write My Life - Юлия Н. Шувалова - Страница 6

When you possess that which you would refuse

And never have the given-up bemoaned;

Or when you mourn the loss of what you used

To think was yours but hardly ever owned —

All this is vain, if, like Pygmalion,

Spending your days with the adored creation,

You wait to see how light ignites the stone —

But no god can liven your possession.