Искусствоед
Theodore Stephanides
The Ship of Odysseus
Seagulls, circling in the sun,
Scream aloft their ancient cry,
Wheel and follow, one by one,
Foam-flakes blown across the sky.
Dolphins in familiar play
Graze the galley's crimson side.
Graze it but to dart away.
Tumbling in and out the tide,
Plunging past the slicing ram
Where the bow-waves roll and slam.
Homeward-bound to island shore,
Sails a shop for evermore;
From the Storms of Time set free,
On her ageless Odyssey.
(from "The Golden Face", 1965)
The Ship of Odysseus
Seagulls, circling in the sun,
Scream aloft their ancient cry,
Wheel and follow, one by one,
Foam-flakes blown across the sky.
Dolphins in familiar play
Graze the galley's crimson side.
Graze it but to dart away.
Tumbling in and out the tide,
Plunging past the slicing ram
Where the bow-waves roll and slam.
Homeward-bound to island shore,
Sails a shop for evermore;
From the Storms of Time set free,
On her ageless Odyssey.
(from "The Golden Face", 1965)