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[northern_wind]

Говорили с Катей про Венецию, я опять пытаюсь сформулировать.
Вовсе не белая готика это. Она мне кажется очень похожей на то, что делают ши.

We come between him and the deed of his hand
We come between him and the hope of his heartЭльфийский подкидыш среди городов. Радость приходящей в город воды и взламывающего асфальт дерева. Жутковатое веселье

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W.B. Yeats

[northern_wind]

The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Cloth-na-Bare;
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,
Our arms are waving, out lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

[karga]

Ты больше не пахнешь снегом и мятой.
Теперь пахнешь водой ключевой и пряной листвой)))

[northern_wind]

Это зависит от сорта выпитого чая. :) И погоды. :)

[karga]

И да и нет:))