Читать книгу No One Can Stem the Tide - Jane Tyson Clement - Страница 13

8

SUMMER NIGHT STORM

The ranting of the gods, this tumbling sky,

this wind-strong rain which pelts against my cheek,

the world re-lit by lightning, and the lie

of tall sea grass low bent against the sand.

I stand here, strangely still, with all the world

tumultuous at my feet, and yet my heart

is stronger than the roaring wind that swirls

about my body, taut against its force;

that blows my eyelids shut, that locks my lips,

lest all my spirit end its restlessness

in one wild song.