poniedziałek, 20 lutego 2012

Najbardziej - The Most


An old man was walking down the road.
One could see length and breadth in his pace.
I asked him about the places he’d been to.
‘Tell me’, I says. ‘What’s the most beautiful?’

The man screwed up his eyes,
gave me a radiant smile,
and that’s what I heard:

‘The most I love rough seas,
long rivers, wild, deep lakes,
and mountains.
And mountains….

The most I love forests,
and meadows, and rye fields.
I love them.
All the most…

The sea of blue
or the sea of green...
The tops of hills or trees…

I love them all the same.
The same the most.
Though in a different way…
It’s hard to say…

Now, you must see…
The most beautiful place
is where you are.

Yet, you can’t stay…
As there are other kinds
of the most
to be found.’  


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