Читать книгу Many Gods - Rice Cale Young - Страница 6

I want to go back to Singapore

And ship along the Straits,

To a bungalow I know beside Penang;

Where cocoanut palms along the shore

Are waving, and the gates

Of Peace shut Sorrow out forevermore.

I want to go back and hear the surf

Come beating in at night,

Like the washing of eternity over the dead.

I want to see dawn fare up and day

Go down in golden light;

I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back!

I want to go back to Singapore

And up along the Straits

To the bungalow that waits me by the tide.

Where the Tamil and Malay tell their lore

At evening – and the fates

Have set no soothless canker at life's core.

I want to go back and mend my heart

Beneath the tropic moon,

While the tamarind-tree is whispering thoughts of sleep.

I want to believe that Earth again

With Heaven is in tune.

I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back!

I want to go back to Singapore

And ship along the Straits

To the bungalow I left upon the strand.

Where the foam of the world grows faint before

It enters, and abates

In meaning as I hear the palm-wind pour.

I want to go back and end my days

Some evening when the Cross

On the southern sky hangs heavily far and sad.

I want to remember when I die

That life elsewhere was loss.

I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back!