Louise Glück (Луиза Глюк)

The White Lilies

As a man and woman make
a garden between them like
a bed of stars, here
they linger in the summer evening
and the evening turns
cold with their terror: it
could all end, it is capable
of devastation. All, all
can be lost, through scented air
the narrow columns
uselessly rising, and beyond,
a churning sea of poppies--

Hush, beloved. It doesn't matter to me
how many summers I live to return:
this one summer we have entered eternity.
I felt your two hands
bury me to release its splendor.

1. Confession
2. The Myth of Innocence
3. Midsummer
4. Parable of the Swans
5. Humidifier

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1589

Последние стихотворения

To English version