2 min read
Слушать(AI)Haschisch
Behind the door, beyond the light,
Who is it waits there in the night?
When he has entered he will stand,
Imposing with his silent
Some silent thing upon the night.
Behold the image of my fear.
O rise not, move not, come not near!
That moment, when you turned your face,
A demon seemed to leap through space;
His gesture strangled me with fear.
And yet I am the lord of all,
And this brave world magnifical,
Veiled in so variable a
It may be rose or amethyst,
Demands me for the lord of all!
Who said the world is but a
In the eternal thought of God?
I know it, real though it seem,
The phantom of a haschisch
In that insomnia which is God.
Arthur Symons
Arthur William Symons (28 February 1865 – 22 January 1945), was a British poet, critic and magazine editor.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Pastel Masks and Faces
The light of our Went and came in the gloom: It was dark in the little room Dark, and then, in the dark,
The Bond
Beloved, and Stranger to me than my foe, And nearer to me than my breath, and my peace and my strife, What is it that binds us straitly together Life;
The Old Women
They pass upon their old, tremulous feet, Creeping with little satchels down the street, And they remember, many years ago, Passing that way in silks
Grey Hours Naples
There are some hours when I seem so indifferent; all things To an indifferent greyness, like that grey of the sky; Always at evening-ends, on grey days; and I know not why, But life, and art, and love, and death, are the shade of a ...