English Poetry. Wallace Stevens. Valley Candle. Уоллес Стивенс.

Wallace Stevens (Уоллес Стивенс) Valley Candle My candle burned alone in an immense valley. Beams of the huge night converged upon it, Until the wind blew. The beams of the huge night Converged upon its image, Until the wind blew. Wallace Stevens’s other poems: Nomad Exquisite Final […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Orchard. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Orchard I saw the first pear as it fell– the honey-seeking, golden-banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I, (spare us from loveliness) and I fell prostrate crying: you have flayed us with your blossoms, spare us the beauty of fruit-trees. […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Adonis. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Adonis 1. Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood-leaves, cracked and bent and tortured and unbent in the winter-frost, the burnt into gold points, lighted afresh, crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf, gold turned and re-welded in […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Pear Tree. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Pear Tree Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver, higher than my arms reach you front us with great mass; no flower ever opened so staunch a white leaf, no flower ever parted silver […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. At Baia. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) At Baia I should have thought in a dream you would have brought some lovely, perilous thing, orchids piled in a great sheath, as who would say (in a dream), “I send you this, who left the blue veins of your throat unkissed.” […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Oread. Хильда Дулитл. Ореада

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Oread Whirl up, sea— Whirl your pointed pines. Splash your great pines On our rocks. Hurl your green over us— Cover us with your pools of fir. Перевод на русский язык Ореада Море, взвихрись, заверти свои остроконечные пинии, плесни […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. The Pool. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) The Pool Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea-fish. I cover you with my net. What are you – banded one? Hilda Doolittle’s other poems: Holy Satyr From Citron-Bower Cities The Mysteries Remain Acon To the dedicated […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Leda. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Leda Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down of his soft breast uncurls his coral feet. Through the deep purple of the dying heat of sun and mist, the […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Heat. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Heat O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air– fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes. Cut […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Evadne. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Evadne I first tasted under Apollo’s lips, love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs back across some rock shelf; I, Evadne, was made of the god of light. His hair […]

English Poetry. Hilda Doolittle. Acon. Хильда Дулитл.

Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл) Acon Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower, buds of myrrh, all-healing herbs, close pressed in calathes. For she lies panting, drawing sharp breath, broken […]

English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Linda Deäne. Уильям Барнс.

William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Linda Deäne The bright-tunn’d house, a-risèn proud, Stood high avore a zummer cloud, An’ windy sheädes o’ tow’rs did vall Upon the many-window’d wall; An’ on the grassy terrace, bright Wi’ white-bloom’d zummer’s deäisy beds, An’ snow-white lilies noddèn heads, Sweet Linda […]

English Poetry. Gordon Bottomley. Atlantis. Гордон Боттомли.

Gordon Bottomley (Гордон Боттомли) Atlantis What poets sang in Atlantis? Who can tell The epics of Atlantis or their names? The sea hath its own murmurs, and sounds not The secrets of its silences beneath, And knows not any cadences enfolded When the last bubbles of Atlantis broke […]