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Блог об управлении проектами

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Грустный офтопик

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

promo psilonsk february 12, 2015 18:07 17
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Ранее в сериале: История первая: договор Ариадны История вторая: лыжи, смоктульки и чаевые История третья: мертвец и розетка ​*** — Послушай, Леша, послушай меня, милый мой друг. Ты же менеджер проектов, так? Ты же не дебил, правильно? Я тебе на пальцах объясняю, а ты понять не можешь.…

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Да, все так... И грустно от причин вдвойне.

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