English En
  • Deutsche De
  • English En
  • Français Fr
  • Русский Ru

We use cookies to personalise content and ads, to provide social media features and to analyse our traffic. We also share information about your use of our site with our marketing and analytics partners who may combine it with other information you've provided to them or which they've separately collected from you. You also may to see our Privacy Policy. By clicking the OK button below, you accept our cookies.

Authors:

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys. Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees. Rustle their pale leaves listlessly, Or the drifting foam of a restless sea. When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.

Oscar Wilde