Monday, February 28, 2011
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Monday, February 14, 2011
romance.
[1922-1927. Written in Burma?]
When I was young and had no sense,
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.
Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said “For twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me.”
She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.
stolen from here: http://georgeorwellnovels.com/poems/romance/
When I was young and had no sense,
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.
Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said “For twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me.”
She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.
stolen from here: http://georgeorwellnovels.com/poems/romance/
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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