Искусствоед
Vance Thompson
Symbols
My Palace is of smoke and rain
And from the window I look forth
And see a blurred, tumultuous train
Glide through a tunnel to the north,
Beaconed by lantern-lights of blood.
My palace is of storm and flood,
And through the window panes I see
The white stars miming oracles
To the dead sand and sleeping sea-
Stars sigh and cry aloud like bells.
My palace is of black basalt.
The stars which mimed in the blue vault
Have passed with dark averted cowls.
I see the city’s fitful light
(Lights winking like the eyes of owls).
Men mad with dreams, shout to the night.
Symbols
My Palace is of smoke and rain
And from the window I look forth
And see a blurred, tumultuous train
Glide through a tunnel to the north,
Beaconed by lantern-lights of blood.
My palace is of storm and flood,
And through the window panes I see
The white stars miming oracles
To the dead sand and sleeping sea-
Stars sigh and cry aloud like bells.
My palace is of black basalt.
The stars which mimed in the blue vault
Have passed with dark averted cowls.
I see the city’s fitful light
(Lights winking like the eyes of owls).
Men mad with dreams, shout to the night.