sword blades & poppy seed-第6部分
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And the vase fell to iridescent sherds。
The old man's body heaved with slow; dry sobs。
He did not curse; he had no words。
He gathered the fragments; one by one;
And his fingers were cut and torn。
Then he made a hole in the very place
Whence the beautiful vase had been borne。
He covered the hole; and he patted it down;
Then he hobbled to his house and shut the door。
He tore up his coat and nailed it at the windows
That no beam of light should cross the floor。
He sat down in front of the empty hearth;
And he neither ate nor drank。
In three days they found him; dead and cold;
And they said: 〃What a queer old crank!〃
The Foreigner
Have at you; you Devils!
My back's to this tree;
For you're nothing so nice
That the hind…side of me
Would escape your assault。
Come on now; all three!
Here's a dandified gentleman;
Rapier at point;
And a wrist which whirls round
Like a circular joint。
A spatter of blood; man!
That's just to anoint
And make supple your limbs。
'Tis a pity the silk
Of your waistcoat is stained。
Why! Your heart's full of milk;
And so full; it spills over!
I'm not of your ilk。
You said so; and laughed
At my old…fashioned hose;
At the cut of my hair;
At the length of my nose。
To carve it to pattern
I think you propose。
Your pardon; young Sir;
But my nose and my sword
Are proving themselves
In quite perfect accord。
I grieve to have spotted
Your shirt。 On my word!
And hullo! You Bully!
That blade's not a stick
To slash right and left;
And my skull is too thick
To be cleft with such cuffs
Of a sword。 Now a lick
Down the side of your face。
What a pretty; red line!
Tell the taverns that scar
Was an honour。 Don't whine
That a stranger has marked you。
* * * * *
The tree's there; You Swine!
Did you think to get in
At the back; while your friends
Made a little diversion
In front? So it ends;
With your sword clattering down
On the ground。 'Tis amends
I make for your courteous
Reception of me;
A foreigner; landed
From over the sea。
Your welcome was fervent
I think you'll agree。
My shoes are not buckled
With gold; nor my hair
Oiled and scented; my jacket's
Not satin; I wear
Corded breeches; wide hats;
And I make people stare!
So I do; but my heart
Is the heart of a man;
And my thoughts cannot twirl
In the limited span
'Twixt my head and my heels;
As some other men's can。
I have business more strange
Than the shape of my boots;
And my interests range
From the sky; to the roots
Of this dung…hill you live in;
You half…rotted shoots
Of a mouldering tree!
Here's at you; once more。
You Apes! You Jack…fools!
You can show me the door;
And jeer at my ways;
But you're pinked to the core。
And before I have done;
I will prick my name in
With the front of my steel;
And your lily…white skin
Shall be printed with me。
For I've come here to win!
Absence
My cup is empty to…night;
Cold and dry are its sides;
Chilled by the wind from the open window。
Empty and void; it sparkles white in the moonlight。
The room is filled with the strange scent
Of wistaria blossoms。
They sway in the moon's radiance
And tap against the wall。
But the cup of my heart is still;
And cold; and empty。
When you come; it brims
Red and trembling with blood;
Heart's blood for your drinking;
To fill your mouth with love
And the bitter…sweet taste of a soul。
A Gift
See! I give myself to you; Beloved!
My words are little jars
For you to take and put upon a shelf。
Their shapes are quaint and beautiful;
And they have many pleasant colours and lustres
To recommend them。
Also the scent from them fills the room
With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses。
When I shall have given you the last one;
You will have the whole of me;
But I shall be dead。
The Bungler
You glow in my heart
Like the flames of uncounted candles。
But when I go to warm my hands;
My clumsiness overturns the light;
And then I stumble
Against the tables and chairs。
Fool's Money Bags
Outside the long window;
With his head on the stone sill;
The dog is lying;
Gazing at his Beloved。
His eyes are wet and urgent;
And his body is taut and shaking。
It is cold on the terrace;
A pale wind licks along the stone slabs;
But the dog gazes through the glass
And is content。
The Beloved is writing a letter。
Occasionally she speaks to the dog;
But she is thinking of her writing。
Does she; too; give her devotion to one
Not worthy?
Miscast I
I have whetted my brain until it is like a Damascus blade;
So keen that it nicks off the floating fringes of passers…by;
So sharp that the air would turn its edge
Were it to be twisted in flight。
Licking passions have bitten their arabesques into it;
And the mark of them lies; in and out;
Worm…like;
With the beauty of corroded copper patterning white steel。
My brain is curved like a scimitar;
And sighs at its cutting
Like a sickle mowing grass。
But of what use is all this to me!
I; who am set to crack stones
In a country lane!
Miscast II
My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson seeds
And dripping them on the ground。
My heart gapes because it is ripe and over…full;
And its seeds are bursting from it。
But how is this other than a torment to me!
I; who am shut up; with broken crockery;
In a dark closet!
Anticipation
I have been temperate always;
But I am like to be very drunk
With your coming。
There have been times
I feared to walk down the street
Lest I should reel with the wine of you;
And jerk against my neighbours
As they go by。
I am parched now; and my tongue is horrible in my mouth;
But my brain is noisy
With the clash and gurgle of filling wine…cups。
Vintage
I will mix me a drink of stars;
Large stars with polychrome needles;
Small stars jetting maroon and crimson;
Cool; quiet; green stars。
I will tear them out of the sky;
And squeeze them over an old silver cup;
And I will pour the cold scorn of my Beloved into it;
So that my drink shall be bubbled with ice。
It will lap and scratch
As I swallow it down;
And I shall feel it as a serpent of fire;
Coiling and twisting in my belly。
His snortings will rise to my head;
And I shall be hot; and laugh;
Forgetting that I have ever known a woman。
The Tree of Scarlet Berries
The rain gullies the garden paths
And tinkles on the broad sides of grass blades。
A tree; at the end of my arm; is hazy with mist。
Even so; I can see that it has red berries;
A scarlet fruit;
Filmed over with moisture。
It seems as though the rain;
Dripping from it;
Should be tinged with colour。
I desire the berries;
But; in the mist; I only scratch my hand on the thorns。
Probably; too; they are bitter。
Obligation
Hold your apron wide
That I may pour my gifts into it;
So that scarcely shall your two arms hinder them
From falling to the ground。
I would pour them upon you
And cover you;
For greatly do I feel this need
Of giving you something;
Even these poor things。
Dearest of my Heart!
The Taxi
When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum。
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind。
Streets coming fast;
One after the other;
Wedge you away from me;
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face。
Why should I leave you;
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
The Giver of Stars
Hold your soul open for my welcoming。
Let the quiet of your spirit bathe me
With its clear and rippled coolness;
That; loose…limbed and weary; I find rest;
Outstretched upon your peace; as on a bed of ivory。
Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me;
That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire;
The life and joy of tongues of flame;
And; going out from you; tightly strung and in tune;
I may rouse the blear…eyed world;
And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten。
The Temple
Between us leapt a gold and scarlet flame。
Into the hollow of the cupped; arched blue
Of Heaven it rose。 Its flickering tongues up…drew
And vanished in the sunshine。 How it came
We guessed not; nor what thing could be its name。
From each to each had sprung those sparks which flew
Together into fire。 But we knew
The winds would slap and quench it in their game。
And so we graved and fashioned marble blocks
To treasure it; and placed them round about。
With pillared porticos we wreathed the whole;
And roofed it with bright bronze。 Behind carved locks
Flowered the tall and sheltered flame。 Without;
The baffled winds thrust at a column's bole。
Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success
Beneath this sod lie the remains
Of one who died of growing pains。
In Answer to a Request
You ask me for a sonnet。 Ah; my Dear;
Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon?
Can cracked and fallen leaves recall last June
And leap up on the boughs; now stiff and sere?
For your sake; I would go and seek the year;
Faded beyond the purple ranks of dune;
Blown sands of drifted hours; which the moon
Streaks with a ghostly finger; and her sneer
Pulls at my lengthening shadow。 Yes; 'tis th