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Интересный и захватывающий антиутопический Роман. Интересная анаграмма - Аркадий Ренн - Айн Рэнд, видимо автор почерпнул антиутопичный настрой из ее п...
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Poems, 1908-1919
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Pierrot, Pierrot, I heard your vows
And left my blossomed apple boughs,
And sorrows dark
Are on my brows.
RECKONING
I heard my love go laughing
Beyond the bolted door,
I saw my love go riding
Across the windy moor,
And I would give my love no word
Because of evil tales I heard.
Let fancy men go laughing,
Let light men ride away,
Bruised corn is not for my mill,
What’s paid I will not pay, —
And so I thought because of this
Gossip that poisoned clasp and kiss.
Four hundred men went riding,
And he the best of all,
A jolly man for labour,
A sinewy man and tall;
I watched him go beyond the hill,
And shaped my anger with my will.
At night my love came riding
Across the dusky moor,
And other two rode with him
Who knocked my bolted door,
And called me out and bade me see
How quiet a man a man could be.
And now the tales that stung me
And gave my pride its rule,
Are worth a beggar’s broken shoe
Or the sermon of a fool,
And all I know and all I can
Is, false or true, he was my man.
DERELICT
The cloudy peril of the seas,
The menace of mid-winter days,
May break the scented boughs of ease
And lock the lips of praise,
But every sea its harbour knows,
And every winter wakes to spring,
And every broken song the rose
Shall yet resing.
But comfortable love once spent
May not re-shape its broken trust,
Or find anew the old content,
Dishonoured in the dust;
No port awaits those tattered sails,
No sun rides high above that gloom,
Unchronicled those half-told tales
Shall time entomb.
WED
I married him on Christmas morn, —
Ah woe betide, ah woe betide,
Folk said I was a comely bride, —
Ah me forlorn.
All braided was my golden hair,
And heavy then, and shining then,
My limbs were sweet to madden men, —
O cunning snare.
My beauty was a thing they say
Of large renown, – O dread renown, —
Its rumour travelled through the town,
Alas the day.
His kisses burn my mouth and brows, —
O burning kiss, O barren kiss, —
My body for his worship is,
And so he vows.
But daily many men draw near
With courtly speech and subtle speech;
I gather from the lips of each
A deadly fear.
As he grows sullen I grow cold,
And whose the blame? Not mine the blame;
Their passions round me as a flame
All fiercely fold.
And oh, to think that he might be
So proudly set, above them set,
If he might but awaken yet
The soul of me.
Will no man seek and seeking find
And left my blossomed apple boughs,
And sorrows dark
Are on my brows.
RECKONING
I heard my love go laughing
Beyond the bolted door,
I saw my love go riding
Across the windy moor,
And I would give my love no word
Because of evil tales I heard.
Let fancy men go laughing,
Let light men ride away,
Bruised corn is not for my mill,
What’s paid I will not pay, —
And so I thought because of this
Gossip that poisoned clasp and kiss.
Four hundred men went riding,
And he the best of all,
A jolly man for labour,
A sinewy man and tall;
I watched him go beyond the hill,
And shaped my anger with my will.
At night my love came riding
Across the dusky moor,
And other two rode with him
Who knocked my bolted door,
And called me out and bade me see
How quiet a man a man could be.
And now the tales that stung me
And gave my pride its rule,
Are worth a beggar’s broken shoe
Or the sermon of a fool,
And all I know and all I can
Is, false or true, he was my man.
DERELICT
The cloudy peril of the seas,
The menace of mid-winter days,
May break the scented boughs of ease
And lock the lips of praise,
But every sea its harbour knows,
And every winter wakes to spring,
And every broken song the rose
Shall yet resing.
But comfortable love once spent
May not re-shape its broken trust,
Or find anew the old content,
Dishonoured in the dust;
No port awaits those tattered sails,
No sun rides high above that gloom,
Unchronicled those half-told tales
Shall time entomb.
WED
I married him on Christmas morn, —
Ah woe betide, ah woe betide,
Folk said I was a comely bride, —
Ah me forlorn.
All braided was my golden hair,
And heavy then, and shining then,
My limbs were sweet to madden men, —
O cunning snare.
My beauty was a thing they say
Of large renown, – O dread renown, —
Its rumour travelled through the town,
Alas the day.
His kisses burn my mouth and brows, —
O burning kiss, O barren kiss, —
My body for his worship is,
And so he vows.
But daily many men draw near
With courtly speech and subtle speech;
I gather from the lips of each
A deadly fear.
As he grows sullen I grow cold,
And whose the blame? Not mine the blame;
Their passions round me as a flame
All fiercely fold.
And oh, to think that he might be
So proudly set, above them set,
If he might but awaken yet
The soul of me.
Will no man seek and seeking find
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Интересный и захватывающий антиутопический Роман. Интересная анаграмма - Аркадий Ренн - Айн Рэнд, видимо автор почерпнул антиутопичный настрой из ее п...
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