HELP PLEASE!!!
Помогите найти оригинал текста или его Автора и название. Очень хочется почитать!!! В оригинале есть только аудиозапись,((( но на слух не всё понятно. Вот отрывок из произведения (за ошибки сори):
A bright Black Hith morning and it was already hot too hot for 26 May. Daniel Marched stand a crowd and wonder again why he was about to run a marathon. Thousands of people were stretching in an early sun shining, massaging limps, seaping at water. It was like a stillness before battle. A woman in a baseball cape stripe an i-pod around her arm. The man beside him tied and retied his laces. Another run up pool water over his head, unshuking like a dog, droplets catching a light.
Whatever it takes Marchen thought, in his case, too much Scotch the night before in not enough training. One last try, he said turned to Leila. She was siting on a grass laening back on her hands, staring stright ahead.
Why would she take it so seriously, he thought, as he stroll over to join a long cue for the bottle loose. If it going got out they can walk, enjoy the day out, was that how she had sold it to him but he knew it would never happened. They would scroll before they walked, it was a stubbornness they shared, a bloody maidedness, he could sometimes do without. He inched towards in the cue, the sweet smell of deep hit, hung heavy in a spring air, reminded Marchen of school changing rooms the similar imenets of pain. He always felt like this before they went out running in Bathersee park.
Помогите найти оригинал текста или его Автора и название. Очень хочется почитать!!! В оригинале есть только аудиозапись,((( но на слух не всё понятно. Вот отрывок из произведения (за ошибки сори):
A bright Black Hith morning and it was already hot too hot for 26 May. Daniel Marched stand a crowd and wonder again why he was about to run a marathon. Thousands of people were stretching in an early sun shining, massaging limps, seaping at water. It was like a stillness before battle. A woman in a baseball cape stripe an i-pod around her arm. The man beside him tied and retied his laces. Another run up pool water over his head, unshuking like a dog, droplets catching a light.
Whatever it takes Marchen thought, in his case, too much Scotch the night before in not enough training. One last try, he said turned to Leila. She was siting on a grass laening back on her hands, staring stright ahead.
Why would she take it so seriously, he thought, as he stroll over to join a long cue for the bottle loose. If it going got out they can walk, enjoy the day out, was that how she had sold it to him but he knew it would never happened. They would scroll before they walked, it was a stubbornness they shared, a bloody maidedness, he could sometimes do without. He inched towards in the cue, the sweet smell of deep hit, hung heavy in a spring air, reminded Marchen of school changing rooms the similar imenets of pain. He always felt like this before they went out running in Bathersee park.
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20.11.2009 в 20:46Они уходят без возврата-
Неповторимые года.
А мы ведь думали когда-то,
Что будем молоды всегда.
А нам казалось год от года,
Когда врывалась в мир весна,
Что нас помилует природа,
Что нас не тронет седина.
Уходят годы осторожно.
Мы не сдаем своих высот...
И только зеркало безбожно
Наш возраст все же выдает.
и если возможно ссылку на источник