Искусствоед
Lawrence Durrell
What a mysterious business.
Wound up one day like a clockwork toy
Set down upon the dusty road
I have walked ticking for so many years.
While with the same sort of gait
And fully wound up like me
At times I meet other toys
With the same sort of idea of being
Tick tock, we nod stiffly as we pass.
They do not seem as real to me as I do;
We do not believe that one day it will end
Somewhere on a mountain of rusting
Automobiles in a rusty siding far from life.
Pitted with age like a colander
Part of the iron vegetation of tomorrow.
(from "The Avignon Quintet")
What a mysterious business.
Wound up one day like a clockwork toy
Set down upon the dusty road
I have walked ticking for so many years.
While with the same sort of gait
And fully wound up like me
At times I meet other toys
With the same sort of idea of being
Tick tock, we nod stiffly as we pass.
They do not seem as real to me as I do;
We do not believe that one day it will end
Somewhere on a mountain of rusting
Automobiles in a rusty siding far from life.
Pitted with age like a colander
Part of the iron vegetation of tomorrow.
(from "The Avignon Quintet")