Читать книгу Дикий ирис. Аверн. Ночь, всеохватная ночь - Луиза Глик - Страница 87

In every life, there’s a moment or two.

In every life, a room somewhere, by the sea

            or in the mountains.

On the table, a dish of apricots. Pits in a white ashtray.

Like all images, these were the conditions of a pact:

on your cheek, tremor of sunlight,

my finger pressing your lips.

The walls blue-white; paint from the low bureau flaking

            a little.

That room must still exist, on the fourth floor,

with a small balcony overlooking the ocean.

A square white room, the top sheet pulled back over

            the edge of the bed.

It hasn’t dissolved back into nothing, into reality.

Through the open window, sea air, smelling of iodine.

Early morning: a man calling a small boy back from

            the water.

That small boy – he would be twenty now.

Around your face, rushes of damp hair, streaked with auburn.

Muslin, flicker of silver. Heavy jar filled with white peonies.