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Название книги: The Inheritance of Loss
Автор(ы): Kiran Desai
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Inheritance-of-Loss-170971.html
To my mother with so much lovePara mi madre con mucho amorBoast of Quietness Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.They speak of humanity.My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.They speak of homeland.My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.Time is living me.More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.My name is someone and anyone.I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive.– Jorge Luis Borges
One
All day, the colors had been those of dusk, mist moving like a water creature across the great flan
Название книги: The Inheritance of Loss
Автор(ы): Kiran Desai
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Inheritance-of-Loss-170971.html
To my mother with so much lovePara mi madre con mucho amorBoast of Quietness Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.They speak of humanity.My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.They speak of homeland.My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.Time is living me.More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.My name is someone and anyone.I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive.– Jorge Luis Borges
One
All day, the colors had been those of dusk, mist moving like a water creature across the great flan
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