Polska poezja

Wiersze po polsku


The clouds, the source of rain, one stormy night
Offered an opening to the source of dew;
Which I accepted with impatient sight,
Looking for my old skymarks in the blue.

But stars were scarce in that part of the sky,
And no two were of the same constelation –
No one was bright enough to identify;
So ’twas with not ungrateful consternation,

Seeing myself well lost once more, I sighted,
‚Where, where in Heaven am I? But don’t tell me!
Oh, opening clouds, by opening on me wide.
Let’s let my heavenly lostness overwhelm me.’

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Wiersz LOST IN HEAVEN - Robert Frost