А вот возьму - и подниму пост, добавив немного личных впечатлений.
В нем есть что-то шекспировское. Хотя возможно, дело просто в размере... да, нет, не только, оно прямо очень напоминает сонеты, это бросается в глаза.
Мне нравится, как Эмили читает свои стихи - эта деликатная обреченность (позвольте мне называть это так) в ее голосе несравнима ни с чем.
стихAnd so I've said too much and not enough
And so the play is finally at an end
You never had the care to call my bluff,
and so I must be pleased to be your friend
But what then was the purpose of this game?
I never really had a chance to win
It's true, I rather like who I became
But what am I to do with who I've been?
For I may wish to meet myself someday
among the ashes of a fire long dead
To see my shadow there and hear it say
that it was happy with the life it led
What emptiness awaits me? This I fear
Far more than any peril I might face
My purpose in this world became less clear
When you were taken from your cherished place
Within my wishing heart and went your way
So willingly it almost makes me ill
To think it never crossed your mind to stay
Pushes the dagger deep, completes the kill
And yet how much of this was done by me?
Had I the courage would you still have flown?
How sad to think this was not destiny
But my mistake, yet how could I have known?
Now here is my dilemma, as it seems
Do I accept the score that fate has set,
And calmly watch the passing of my dreams
Or do I dare to place another bet
That where the curtain falls another rises
If I am wrong then strike me for my sins
But I believe our acts and thin disguises
Where but a prologue to what now begins