Читать книгу The Song Maker - A Collection of Poems - Sara Teasdale - Страница 10

The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,

And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,

The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.

Twilight has veiled the little flower face

Here on my heart, but still the night is kind

And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.

Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk

Along the surges creeping up the shore

When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,

And running, running, till the night was black,

Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand

And quiver with the winds from off the sea?

Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides

Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me

Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest.

I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands

And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet,

From whom the sea is bitterer than death.

Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more

To thee, God's daughter, powerful as God,

It is that thou hast made my life too sweet

To hold the added sweetness of a song.

There is a quiet at the heart of love,

And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.

I hold my peace, my Cleis, on my heart;

And softer than a little wild bird's wing

Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth.

Ah, never any more when spring like fire

Will flicker in the newly opened leaves,

Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude

Beyond the lure of light Alcaeus' lyre,

Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna's voice.

Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,

Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring,

Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love

The quiver and the crying of my heart.

Still I remember how I strove to flee

The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head

To hurry faster, but upon the ground

I saw two winged shadows side by side,

And all the world's spring passion stifled me.

Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might,

No lonely place where thou hast never trod,

No desert thou hast left uncarpeted

With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet.

In many guises didst thou come to me;

I saw thee by the maidens while they danced,

Phaon allured me with a look of thine,

In Anactoria I knew thy grace,

I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes;

But never wholly, soul and body mine,

Didst thou bid any love me as I loved.

Now I have found the peace that fled from me;

Close, close, against my heart I hold my world.

Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry,

Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine,

I taught the world thy music, now alone

I sing for one who falls asleep to hear.