George Sylvester Viereck (Джордж Сильвестр Вирек)

Slaves

No puppet master pulls the strings on high,
  Portioning our parts, the tinsel and the paint:
A twisted nerve, a ganglion gone awry,
  Predestinates the sinner and the saint.

Each, held more firmly than by hempen band,
  Slave of his entrails, struts across the scene:
The malnutrition of some obscure gland
  Makes him a Ripper or the Nazarene.

1. The Three Sphinxes
2. The Ghost of Oscar Wilde
3. A Ballad of King David
4. The Candle and the Flame
5. Iron Passion

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1756

Последние стихотворения

To English version