Funeral Blues

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

Bài thơ diễn tả nổi buồn một cách độc đáo! Tâm đắc nhất đoạn này:

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

Có ai mô tả sự mật thiết hay ho hơn thế này không ? Đây mới thật sự lột tả được cái câu: You're my everything!

Bài thơ hay nhưng có lẽ em ko cảm giác được mạnh mẽ như sis .... .... Sis nói đúng, 4 câu này đơn giản nhất và nặng tình nhất.