Читать книгу The Branch Will Not Break - James Wright A. - Страница 8

And how can I, born in evil days And fresh from failure, ask a kindness of Fate?

—Written A.D. 819

Po Chu-i, balding old politician,

What’s the use?

I think of you,

Uneasily entering the gorges of the Yang-Tze,

When you were being towed up the rapids

Toward some political job or other

In the city of Chungshou.

You made it, I guess,

By dark.

But it is 1960, it is almost spring again,

And the tall rocks of Minneapolis

Build me my own black twilight

Of bamboo ropes and waters.

Where is Yuan Chen, the friend you loved?

Where is the sea, that once solved the whole loneliness

Of the Midwest? Where is Minneapolis? I can see nothing

But the great terrible oak tree darkening with winter.

Did you find the city of isolated men beyond mountains?

Or have you been holding the end of a frayed rope

For a thousand years?