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Wallace Stevens (Уоллес Стивенс)


Of the Surface of Things


I

In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;
But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four
        hills and a cloud.

II

From my balcony, I survey the yellow air,
Reading where I have written,
"The spring is like a belle undressing."

III

The gold tree is blue,
The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.
The moon is in the folds of the cloak.



Wallace Stevens's other poems:
  1. Earthy Anecdotes
  2. To the Roaring Wind
  3. Peter Quince at the Clavier
  4. Sunday Morning
  5. The Florist Wears Knee-Breeches


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