Marketing
. . . drive away. . .
za informaciju zbunjenih ljudi nisam zaljubljena jer je to osobama poput mene nemoguće.
no neda mi se pisati cila hištorija neg sam ću napisati: PUTOVANJE JE POČELO
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Post je objavljen 15.04.2007. u 16:00 sati.