Искусствоед
Theodore Stephanides
In All Things Wonder
The more I think, the more the mystery
Of why this World or Anything should be
Assails my mind with sheer perplexity.
Of all Unknowns this rises like a wall
To mask perception. Why did it befall
That there should be a Universe at all?
Why should the Earth exist, the Moon or Mars,
Ringed Saturn or the Sun? Why,
The Galaxies which gleam in spiral scars?
With changing scale, why should a flower be,
A virus no unaided eye can see —
Or Man in his imagined Majesty?
And then this lifeless pebble in my hand,
This six-rayed gem of snow, this golden sand,
What was their origin — planned or unplanned?
The fact that all things are? this fact alone
Is so transcendent that the Mind must own
That all is mystery: the Soul, the Stone.
Why should the pebble be? We know it is;
And yet this marvel lightly we dismiss...
God and the Soul are lesser mysteries...
(from "Worlds in a Crucible" 1973)
continue with this.
In All Things Wonder
The more I think, the more the mystery
Of why this World or Anything should be
Assails my mind with sheer perplexity.
Of all Unknowns this rises like a wall
To mask perception. Why did it befall
That there should be a Universe at all?
Why should the Earth exist, the Moon or Mars,
Ringed Saturn or the Sun? Why,
The Galaxies which gleam in spiral scars?
With changing scale, why should a flower be,
A virus no unaided eye can see —
Or Man in his imagined Majesty?
And then this lifeless pebble in my hand,
This six-rayed gem of snow, this golden sand,
What was their origin — planned or unplanned?
The fact that all things are? this fact alone
Is so transcendent that the Mind must own
That all is mystery: the Soul, the Stone.
Why should the pebble be? We know it is;
And yet this marvel lightly we dismiss...
God and the Soul are lesser mysteries...
(from "Worlds in a Crucible" 1973)
continue with this.