– fordi tiden kræver et MODSPIL

24. Oct 2006

A red, red Rose

 

          O MY Luve’s like a red, red rose,	
            That’s newly sprung in June:	
          O my Luve’s like the melodie,	
            That’s sweetly play’d in tune.	
 
          As fair art thou, my bonie lass,	        
            So deep in luve am I;	
          And I will luve thee still, my dear,	
            Till a’ the seas gang dry.	
 
          Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,	
            And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;	        
          And I will luve thee still, my dear,	
            While the sands o’ life shall run.	
 
          And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!	
            And fare-thee-weel, a while!	
          And I will come again, my Luve,	        
            Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!	

          Robert Burns (1759-1796)

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