Harold Hart Crane

As silent as a mirror is
Realities plunge in silence by . . .
I am not ready for repentance;
Nor to match regrets.  For the

Заутра слышится мне благовест пречистый
Уже заупокойным звоном в память дня —
Из белизны епископального батиста
Пахнуло стужей преисподней на меня.А виделось ли вам в тот час, когда рассветом…

С которых пор, дрожа, рассветный хлад
накалывает чаячьи крыла
на черные булавки? — Там, где своды
неволи возле Статуи Свободы.

Where icy and bright dungeons lift
Of swimmers their lost morning eyes,
And ocean rivers, churning, shift
Green borders under stranger skies,Steadily as a shell secretes…

—And yet this great wink of eternity,
Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings,
Samite sheeted and processioned where
Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,…

От наших шальных утешений — проку
будет не больше земному праху,
чем от шальных попаданий ветра
и пустые карманы одежды ветхой.

Grand CaymanThis tuft that thrives on saline nothingness,
Inverted octopus with heavenward arms
Thrust parching from a palm-bole hard by the cove⎯
A bird almost⎯of almost bird alarms,Is pulmonary to the wind that jars…

—And yet this great wink of eternity,
Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings,
Samite sheeted and processioned
Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,

"And so we may arrive by Talmud skill And profane Greek to raise the building up Of Helen's house against the Ismaelite,
King of Thogarma, and his habergeons Brimstony, blue and fiery; and the force Of King A baddon, and the beast of…

Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed…

I met a man in South Street, tall— a nervous shark tooth swung on his chain.
His eyes pressed through green glass —green glasses, or bar lights made them so— shine—
EN— eyes— stepped out—forgot to look at you or left you several blocks…

Whose counted smile of hours and days, suppose
I know as spectrum of the sea and pledge
Vastly now parting gulf on gulf of wings
Whose circles bridge, I know, (from palms to the severe…

We will make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random
As the wind
In slithered and too ample pockets.

Perspective never withers from their eyes;
They keep that docile edict of the Spring That blends March with August Antarctic skies:
These are but cows that see no other thing Than grass and snow, and their own inner being Through the…

Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page And still wing on, untarnished of the name We pinion to your bodies to assuage Our envy of your freedom—we must maim Because we are usurpers, and chagrined— And take the wing and scar it in the…

You who desired so much—in vain to ask—Yet fed you hunger like an endless task,
Dared dignify the labor, bless the quest—Achieved that stillness ultimately best,
Being, of all, least sought for:
Emily, hear!

Whose counted smile of hours and days, suppose I know as spectrum of the sea and pledge Vastly now parting gulf on gulf of wings Whose circles bridge,
I know, (from palms to the severe Chilled albatross's white immutability) No stream of…

Yes,
I beingthe terrible puppet of my dreams, shalllavish this on you-the dense mine of the orchid, split in two.
And the fingernails that cinch suchenvirons?
And what about the staunch neighbor tabulations

С которых пор, дрожа, рассветный хлад
накалывает чаячьи крыла
на черные булавки? — Там, где своды
неволи возле Статуи Свободы.Как парус, только призрачный, плывет…

How many dawns, chill from his rippling
The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building
Over the chained bay waters Liberty—Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our

My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, —No, — nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell',
And with the day, distance again
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.
Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.

Infinite consanguinity it bears
This tendered theme of you that light
Retrieves from sea plains where the sky
Resigns a breast that every wave enthrones;…

There are no stars to-night But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is In the loose girdle of soft rain.
There is even room enough For the letters of my mother's mother,
Elizabeth

Performances, assortments, résumés— Up Times Square to Columbus Circle lights Channel the congresses, nightly sessions,
Refractions of the thousand theatres, faces— Mysterious kitchens. . . .
You shall search them all.
Someday by…