Читать книгу Зимородок - Яна Кане - Страница 7
Metamorphosis
English language poems
Ripening
ОглавлениеMy little daughter wakes in tears:
She fancies that her bed is drawn
into a dimness which appears
to be the deep of all her fears
but which, in point of fact, is dawn.
Vladimir Nabokov
Not life or death,
Creation or its fall,
Not good or evil,
But the whole, the all —
This fruit of knowledge
Is still dim, still green.
The ripening of dawn
Remains unseen.
The soul does not yet trust
The sense of sight,
Still hides in terror
From the kindling light.
It’s here, though each glimpse of it is brief,
It’s here, the lambent glow of joy and grief.
