Стихи и эссе
Шрифт:
The Fall of Rome W. H. Auden
(for Cyril Connolly)
TWO SONGS FOR HEDLI ANDERSON
I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put cr?pe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John Beside the deep river would walk on and on While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love, And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play': But he frowned like thunder and he went away. O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball, The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud; 'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day': But he frowned like thunder and he went away. Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera When music poured out of each wonderful star? Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down Over each silver and golden silk gown; 'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say: But he frowned like thunder and he went away. O but he was fair as a garden in flower, As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower, When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart; 'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey': But he frowned like thunder and he went away. O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover, You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other, The sea it was blue and the grass it was green, Every star rattled a round tambourine; Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay: But you frowned like thunder and you went away. Give me a doctor
1951
О тиранах
* * *
Tyrants may get slain, But their hangmen usually Die in their beds. * * *
The tyrant's device: Whatever is Possible Is Necessary. * * *
When Chiefs of State Prefer to work at night, Let the citizen beware. Iceland revisited
(for Basil and Susan Boothby)
Encounter July 1964
* * *
Unwashed, unshat, He was whisked from the plane To a lunch in his honour. * * *
He hears a 1oud-speaker Call him wen known, But knows himself no better. * * *
The desolate fjord Denied the possibility Of many gods. * * *
Twenty-eight years ago Three slept well here. Now one is married, one dead, Where the harmonium stood A radio:¬ Have the Fittest survived? * * *
Unable to speak Icelandic, He helped instead To do the dishes. * * *
The bondi's sheep-dog and the visitor from New York Conversed freely. * * *
Snow had camouflaged The pool of liquid manure: The town-mouse fell in. * * *
A blizzard. A bare room. Thoughts of the past. He forgot to wind his watch. * * *
The gale howled over lava. Suddenly, In the storm's eye, A dark speck, Perseus in an air-taxi, Come to snatch Shivering Andromeda Out of the wilderness And bring her back To hot baths, cocktails, habits. * * *
Once more A child's dream verified The magical light beyond Hekla. * * *
Fortunate island, Where all men are equal But not vulgar-not yet. THE PRESUMPTUOUS
Короткие стихи 1929-1931
1
Pick a quarrel, go to war, Leave the hero in the bar; Hunt the lion, climb the peak: No one guesses you are weak.2
The friends of the born nurse Are always getting worse.3
When he is well She gives him hell; But she's a brick When he is sick.4
You’re a long way off becoming a saint So long as you suffer from any complaint; But, if you don’t, there’s no denying The chances are that you’re not trying.5
I am afraid there is many a spectacled sod Prefers the British Museum to God.6
I'm beginning to lose patience With my personal relations: They are not deep, And they are not cheap.7
Those who will not reason Perish in the act; Those who will not act Perish for that reason.8
Let us honor if we can The vertical man, Though we value none But the horizontal one.Поделиться с друзьями: