Искусствоед
Theodore Stephanides
Visitor
I heard a knocking at my gate one night,
But would not open, fearing it might be
Some secret ambush. Once again that light
Knock broke the silence, and a Voice to me
Spoke: "Open, for I come but once!" Still I
Dared not obey. Then for the third time round
I heard the knock — but faintly — and a sigh
That seemed to flow from my own soul: a sound
A of receding wings. When morning gleam
Had banished midnight fear, I gained the door
And wondered in my heart what was this Dream,
This Vision that would visit me no more.
Long time I sought a clue — but only found
A shining plume with silver tendrils wound.
(from "Worlds in a Crucible" 1973)
Visitor
I heard a knocking at my gate one night,
But would not open, fearing it might be
Some secret ambush. Once again that light
Knock broke the silence, and a Voice to me
Spoke: "Open, for I come but once!" Still I
Dared not obey. Then for the third time round
I heard the knock — but faintly — and a sigh
That seemed to flow from my own soul: a sound
A of receding wings. When morning gleam
Had banished midnight fear, I gained the door
And wondered in my heart what was this Dream,
This Vision that would visit me no more.
Long time I sought a clue — but only found
A shining plume with silver tendrils wound.
(from "Worlds in a Crucible" 1973)