Harold Hart Crane (Харт Крейн)

Exile

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

Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove's wings clung about my heart each night
With surging gentleness, and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.

1. Interior
2. Southern Cross
3. The Hurricane
4. Recitative
5. The Visible, the Untrue

Charles Stoddard (Чарльз Стоддард) Exile ("Under heavy eyelids lie")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1739

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