he-he
šodien, mājās rakņājoties papīros, atradu pašas sacerēto poēmu par sevi. Atceros, reiz, kad mācījos angļu filologos, kā mājasdarbu mums uzdeva uzrakstīt poēmu par sevi. Lūk, kas man toreiz sanāca:)))
The Poem about Her
Poem`s written
Kneet and nice
Somewhere truth and somewhere lies.
Here`re some words that people say
When they meet Her everyday:
Some say She has cruel heart
Making someone suffer hard.
Not accepting someone`s love
She`s considered frivolous.
Someone loves Her hiding feelings
Writing Her name on the ceilings,
And sometimes when moon is shining
Whispers it into the silence;
While the roses fill his night dreams
She is laughing, eating ice-cream.
On the contrast other give
Other truth to be believed.
She is nice and very friendly,
She has soft voice and speaks gently,
Library - Her second home;
She lives under knowledge dome.
On the other hand, for instance
She has devil in assistance;
Some think She is too much cunning,
Making cross when see Her coming.
But the true thing`s hidden deep,
It`s the secret She will keep.
Now it`s your turn
Try to guess
Where was more truth, where was less.
he-he, jauki, ne?
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