Victor Vertunni - The Fly (William Blake) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Victor Vertunni
• The Fly (William Blake)

Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing,

Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly.
If I live,
Or if I die.

Victor Vertunni еще тексты