Prufrock کے بول

I’m almost home to bury my bones In blanketed black and thistled thrones I’ve seen it come when the rabbits run The whispering skin, the saddled sun Covered my eyes when all was aligned And sat in the sand, repose remised But laughed like blood when weaknesses won A cradled decay, a love to none I’m almost home to bury my bones In blanketed black and thistled thrones I’ve seen it come when the rabbits run The whispering skin, the saddled sun A blinding burn from which all returns From flourishing fawn to ash-ed urn The things I see mean little to me A cradled decay, a memory A memory that sings in my sleep and my dreams Melodies of uncertainty, make believe I am here to disappear beneath the salted skies Almost home, on my own, a runner in the rye