Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
When looking back I dimly see
The trails my feet have trod,
Some hand divine, it seems to me,
Has pulled the strings with God;
Some angel form has lifeward leaned
When hope for me was past;
Some love sublime has intervened
To save me at the last.
For look you! I was born a fool,
It was foretold by sybils three
that in an air crash he would die.
"I'll fool their prophesy," said he;
"You won't get me to go on high.
Howe're the need for haste and speed,
I'll never, never, never fly."
It's true he traveled everywhere,
Afar and near, by land and sea,
Yet he would never go by air
In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws.
In school he never led his classes,
He hid old ladies' reading glasses,
His mouth was open when he chewed,
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked NO ADMITTANCE.
А чи дано тобі,
Початому в мокрому лоні,
Викупатись у Вселюбові істини,
Пригадуючи тишу серед океану води
і потоків крови,
Коли пам’ять завмирає перед глибинами пізнання.
А чи дано тобі,
Окресленому двома півкулями на мапі,
І все було не так
Спершу було Я
Що не знало ні неба ні землі
Стиснене в порожнині матері
нестримно шукаюче виходу
з власної пустоти
ростучого всередині всесвіту
Щупальцями клітин роздираюче простір
The Show Must Go On
Once there was a poor actor
who grew tired of the part he played,
so one day he changed all the words around,
just said what he wanted to say.
'You can't do that! ' cried the director,
'the plot's been carefully arranged.
You must die at the end of Act IV.
When Titania, the queen of the fairies,
falls in love with an ass in A Midsummer Night's Dream,
she's really reached Bottom,
and we cannot help but pity her.
But it's amusing, too, to see someone
so noble so blinded by love,
and we recognize the truth in it.
After all, that might well be any one of us,
because love is not really a choice.
It's not based on respect, intelligence, shared sensibilities,
Can I dig into a hole
Oh as 0s
wide and opens Is above
I would occupy a small and narrow den
Because yuh be expecting too much of me
Does there have to be a decision
Behind every occasion
Oh as 0s
Wide and opens is below