Friday, August 24, 2012

Úr The Tempest

    Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, 
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. 
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices 
That, if I then had waked after long sleep, 
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, 
The clouds me thought would open and show riches 
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, 
I cried to dream again. 

Tekstur: William Shakespeare, úr The Tempest
Mynd: Marius Olsen