All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space is Mightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams: All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continually Against the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them; Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining; Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally. But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night! And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures; For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepy As they are now.
2 min read
СлушатьSlow Movement
0
0
74
Give Award
William Carlos Williams
William Carlos Williams (September 17, 1883 – March 4, 1963) was a Puerto Rican-American poet, writer, and physician closely associated with mod…
Other author posts
Sub Terra
Whr shall I fin yu— Yu, my grtsqu fllws That I sk vrywhr T mak up my ban Nn, nt n With th arthy tasts I rquir: Th burrwing pri that riss Subtly as n a bush in May Whr ar yu this ay— Yu, my svn-y...…
The Horse Show
Cnstantly nar yu, I nvr in my ntirsixty-fur yars knw yu s wll as ystrayr half s wll W talk yu wr nvr s lui, s isngag frm all xignisf pla an tim…
Portrait Of A Lady
Yur thighs ar appltrswhs blssms tuh th sky Whih sky Th skywhr Wattau hung a lay'sslippr Yur knsar a suthrn brz — ra gust f snw…
Dawn
Estati bir sngs pun th hllw vastnss f th sky with mtalli linkings— bating lr up int it at a far g,—bating it, bating it with rising, triumphant arr,— stirring it int warmth, quikning in it a spraing hang,— burstin...…
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments