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Sihala Piyasa (Sinhala Literature Forum)
Nisadas saha Kaavya
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<blockquote data-quote="puja" data-source="post: 210202" data-attributes="member: 13797"><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">This gap in time, this season not their own,</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">The weight of being born into exile is lifted.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">"Be off!" say Winter's snows;</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Reshaping magnified, each risen flake</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Whiteness, those pediments that rise</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">My keyhole blows a gale</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">My keyhole blows a gale</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">shortcake, waffles, berries and cream</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">A pallid yellow lingers</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">Down the long course of the gray slush of things</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green">More beautiful than anything in this world.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="color: Green"></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="puja, post: 210202, member: 13797"] [FONT="Book Antiqua"][SIZE="5"][COLOR="Green"]I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps This gap in time, this season not their own, The weight of being born into exile is lifted. "Be off!" say Winter's snows; Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines, Toward . . . that seems to be the whispered question Reshaping magnified, each risen flake Whiteness, those pediments that rise And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead My keyhole blows a gale demonstrating their talent for comedy—stroke My keyhole blows a gale Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat, shortcake, waffles, berries and cream A pallid yellow lingers Down the long course of the gray slush of things More beautiful than anything in this world. [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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Dahaya deken beduwama keeyada?
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