Count Raven

Я - тот самый автор, которого вам так не хватало!Я - ваше всё!...даже самый чистый из людей не лишён начисто гнили, индивид - одиночка в этом царстве зверей, где уходящее время имеет привкус пыли...There were three rauens sat on a tree,downe a downe, hay downe, hay downe,There were three rauens sat on a tree,with a downe,There were three rauens sat on a tree,They were as blacke as they might be.With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.The one of them said to his mate,Where shall we our breakfast take?Downe in yonder greene field,There lies a Knight slain under his shield,His hounds they lie downe at his feete,So well they can their Master keepe,His Hawkes they flie so eagerly,There’s no fowle dare him come nieDowne there comes a fallow Doe,As great with yong as she might goe,She lift up his bloudy head,And kist his wounds that were so red,She got him up upon her backe,And carried him to earthen lake,She buried him before the prime,She was dead her self ere euen-song time.God send euery gentleman,Such haukes, such hounds, and such a Leman. Repent, fools! 死は言い訳 ではありません The Wolf Cries In Anger Tempus edax rerum Inter foeces et urinam nascen tur Nihil Verum Nisi Mors