Искусствоед
Lawrence Durrell
Exile in Athens
To be a king of islands,
Share a boundary with eagles,
Be a subject of sails.
Here, on these white rocks,
In cold palaces all winter,
Under the salt blanket,
Forget not yet the tried intent,
Pale hands before the face: face
Before the sea's blue negative,
Washing against the night,
Pushing against the doors,
Earth's dark metaphors.
Here alone in a stone city
I sing the rock, the sea-squill,
Over Greece the one punctual star.
To be king of the clock —
I know, I know — to share
Boundaries with the bird,
With the ant her lodge:
But they betray, betray.
To be the owner of stones,
To be a king of islands,
Share a bed with a star,
Be a subject of sails.
Exile in Athens
To be a king of islands,
Share a boundary with eagles,
Be a subject of sails.
Here, on these white rocks,
In cold palaces all winter,
Under the salt blanket,
Forget not yet the tried intent,
Pale hands before the face: face
Before the sea's blue negative,
Washing against the night,
Pushing against the doors,
Earth's dark metaphors.
Here alone in a stone city
I sing the rock, the sea-squill,
Over Greece the one punctual star.
To be king of the clock —
I know, I know — to share
Boundaries with the bird,
With the ant her lodge:
But they betray, betray.
To be the owner of stones,
To be a king of islands,
Share a bed with a star,
Be a subject of sails.