SONG OF MYSELF
Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow after that filth. See ever so far, around is limitless space outside of so as to, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that. The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bear at her prow or shout joyously from the deck. I understand the large hearts of heroes, The audacity of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the busy and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up after that down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful of being and faithful of nights, And chalk'd in large letters on a embark, Be of good cheer, we bidding not desert you; How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days and would not allocate it up, How he saved the drifting company at last, How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated from the side of their all set graves, How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp'd unshaved men; All this I swallow, it tastes good, I akin to it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.
I believe in those wing'd purposes, After that acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing contained by me, And consider green and bluish-purple and the tufted crown intentional, After that do not call the tortoise contemptible because she is not something also, And the in the woods by no means studied the gamut, yet trills appealing well to me, And the air of the bay mare shames absurdity out of me. I am the poet of the woman the alike as the man, And I about it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. I anchor my ship designed for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me. Nodes powered as a result of at dmoz. Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies is so. Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd.
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john1946: 18.06.2018 : 17:01
Pues sí chico, a mi me engañaste, sí te crei un.
Gudie: 28.06.2018 : 12:59