Edna St. Vincent Millay (Эдна Сент-Винсент Миллей)

The Curse

Oh, lay my ashes on the wind
That blows across the sea.
And I shall meet a fisherman
Out of Capri,

And he will say, seeing me,
”What a Strange Thing!
Like a fish’s scale or a 
Butterfly’s wing.”

Oh, lay my ashes on the wind
That blows away the fog.
And I shall meet a farmer boy
Leaping through the bog,

And he will say, seeing me,
”What a Strange Thing!
Like a peat-ash or a 
Butterfly’s wing.”

And I shall blow to YOUR house
And, sucked against the pane,
See you take your sewing up
And lay it down again.

And you will say, seeing me,
”What a strange thing!
Like a plum petal or a 
Butterfly’s wing.”

And none at all will know me
That knew me well before.
But I will settle at the root
That climbs about your door,

And fishermen and farmers
May see me and forget,
But I’ll be a bitter berry
In your brewing yet.

1. Assault
2. Tavern
3. Sonnets 11: As To Some Lovely Temple, Tenantless
4. The True Encounter
5. Eel-Grass

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1340

Последние стихотворения

To English version