Malade - Бесплатная аудиокнига

SORROW

WHY does the thin grey strand
     Floating up from the forgotten
     Cigarette between my fingers,
     Why does it trouble me?

     Ah, you will understand;
     When I carried my mother downstairs,
     A few times only, at the beginning
     Of her soft-foot malady,

     I should find, for a reprimand
     To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs
     On the breast of my coat; and one by one
     I let them float up the dark chimney.