Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich – yes, richer than a king-
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought he was everything
To make us whish what we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Edwin Arlington Robinson

.................................
پ.ن.1 این شعر رو خیلی دوست دارم
         آدمی که همه ارزو داشتند جای اون باشند
       آدمی با سلوک شاهانه که مردم گشنه و گدای کوچه و بازار
       آرزو داشتند جاش باشند
       یه روز آرم تابستونی ...
پ.ن.2 عجب دنیای عجیبیه!

 

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