I New York City

"New York, I Love You" Уинстен Оден …He was my North, My South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun: Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.