Мария Визи - A moon gate in my wall: собрание стихотворений

«Expectantly?» Suppose, you little fool,
A hunchback (but there are none in the school)…
Suppose a wench of some four feet and two
Would, since you ask, decide to visit you …
Or some gaunt giantess above six feet,
Such as the people laugh at when they meet…
Suppose she is bow-legged, and her hair,
Like that of ancient Furies, stands in air?
And let her face be harsh as mortal sin,
Belying any sparkle from within.
She winks an eye, distorts a ghastly cheek,
And then you hear, instead of voice, — a squeak!
Will you at that be able to disguise
The true interpretation of your eyes?
And generously willing to forget
The shock that you from such a sight would get?
But after all, you may be far amiss
And I may be Mister, not a Miss.
I really always hate to disappoint,
But «dazzling, flashing» are beside the point.
«Expectantly»… — You know not what you say!
Yet you may hear from me another day.

…This funny game — this life — is full of things
We guess not of. A mocking bird that sings
At dawn, in June, above your windowsill,
Charming your waking fancies with its trill —
Will fly away, and you will never see
Why it had landed on the neighbor tree.
Better to keep things hidden than unmasked,
Lest answers startle, if the truth be asked;
Kinder to let the goldfish float below,
Than, having caught it, watch its life-light go;
Safer to leave the morning star unfound,
Than, having held it, shatter on the ground…
— Leave, and be gone along the open trail,
Don't watch the sun until its glories pale.
So I will wander on, and so will you,
Our feet still wet with early morning dew,
A endless day still glimmering ahead—
That speaks of warmth and often burrs instead.
… We both are humans. That's where really lies
My sympathy for you; and though our eyes
Have never met, we many times have seen
The other's eyes, not knowing what they mean.
Another life, passed by along the way,
Forgotten in a week, yet near today.
Let us be merry; though the blissful hours
May be but few in this here life of ours.
Let us be happy; though the fairy wand
Touches but seldom each unfailing hand…

The cold waves, and the light underneath the waves,
— Is anything grayer — is anyone's welcome colder?
Yet dimmer and dimmer grows
The shadow of love's graves,
And barely my conscience saves
The parting touch of your shoulder.
In the ocean I seek repose.
Not even grief can mar
The beauty — when waters close
To silence love's echo.
And you are forgotten and far.

They took me to the door and showed
A narrow and a winding road,
Leading to wondrous things, that may
Be mine, if I but go that way.
I went, for I had naught to lose,
And saw no other road to choose.
And much the Powers freely gave
That I was fool enough to crave.
Beauty and Love and Youth I had,
And many friends who made me glad
That Higher Powers long ago
Had shown me just that way to go.
Yet often, oh, how often now
I want — if they but told me how —
To find that first wide-open door
And beg for just a little more.

It's eye for eye, and tooth for tooth,
And even the Eternal Truth
For every cruel word I've said
Breathes vengeance on my head.

I cast a rock into the well
And stood to listen how it fell.
How it went shooting through the deep.
Where frogs and water-serpents creep.
And as it reached the bottom black
I heard it give a sullen whack
And saw the bubbles at the top
And circles w’here 1 let it drop.
And now — I see the sky and sun
And I regret what I have done
And wonder if the silent stone
Remembers, where it lies alone
Among the creatures of the slime,
Its happier and brighter time —
And if it longs to see above
The sun, which I deprived it of.

Like colored glass is fair
when the porch is gray,
so all my days were
till you went away.
Like rainbows in the sky
following after rain,
so is the thought that I
may meet you yet again.
But, oh, the endless years
that I don't see your face
are cold and lonely years
in a lonely place.

Oh, tender dawn above the sombre pond,
where great, green drooping weeping willows crowd
to touch the sleeping water; and beyond —
the golden turrets of a rising cloud.

Oh, gentle wind, sweet scented breath that stirs
this silent waking water, — and the lace
of willows, and green saplings, and brown burrs
framing its face!

What can the heart within a human breast —
what can it do with that taut golden string
calling for all the agony and unrest
which make men sing?

Weep in such hours of ecstasy, oh heart!
Be silent, oh dark heart, — you cannot cool
your burning thirst from that deep, glittering pool,
or reach that sky light where the willows part!

Nothing there is that you can do. Lie low,
hide on the soft black earth, in the wet grass,
breathe not when this mild wind begins to blow,
hear not, nor watch how the green ripples go,
that, seeing you — helpless and suffering so —
those stirring hours take pity on you and pass!

So dawn creeps to dark waters, and so hope
to still, sick, sombre hearts, that vainly grope
throughout the night, not knowing that a day
is near, to end their sorrow and dismay.

How bright the ripples in the sudden glare
of morning, and the waking trees how fair!
Even my wingless heart can so forget
that it alone has not been lighter yet…

If I had but a little common sense,
I would forsake you, 1 would travel hence
and maybe see, in lovely places, far,
that you were not the sky's most brilliant star.

Perhaps on lofty mountains I would seek
the flaming flower of the snow-clad peak,
or on some island in the sunny sea
forget the words that you have said to me.

There are so many wonders I could find,
that life would yet be bountiful and kind,
and going so I should not drop a tear,
— if I had sense…
But I have none, my dear.

It's not because you leave me that I weep,
nor am I broken just because we part, —
but that the coin of friendship proved so cheap,
and that your word meant nothing in your heart.

Leave me now, go; I will not need you more.
Travel your way, while I shall walk my own;
Let not your conscience worry on my score:
I may be even stronger so, alone.

But should I ever meet you later on —
tired and sick and begging me for bread
with all your luck and earthly glories gone —
better for you if one of us were dead,
for I may turn and give a stone instead.

Once in this world of mountain, wood and plain
my road crossed yours. We will not meet again.
But as a dawn breaks open sunlit skies —
so once we looked into each other's eyes.

In that brief hour the words we spoke were few,
and when you went, and I lost sight of you
still all the birds were trilling, and the day
shone just as golden as I walked my way.

Poor foolish heart — why should it cry and cry
because you crossed the verv hour as I?

Quiet the waters were, — do you recall? —
quietly did the waters rise and roll
in low and gentle swells, when one fine day
you dropped your anchor in my slumbering bay.

Softly the breezes from the western sky
swept over silent sands where you and I
gazed at the sea — and not a shadow fell,
nor came a cloud to break the golden spell.

How can I wonder now, with you no more,
that black the waters rise, and roar, and roar?

High in the mountains, where the grass is cool,
we tied our horses by an emerald pool,
and as they drank, as they neighed in glee,
we two sat motionless, and speechless, — we.

Upon the shining flanks of your black steed
you watched the water flicker, bead by bead;
you never raised your eyes, yet well you knew —
that all the while 1 only thought of you.

Dear dream forgotten, dream that was so frail!
The evening sky was cloudless, calm and pale —
could I have guessed, as we resumed that trail,

that every star would wane, and every stream
run dry and silent, as in a by-gone dream?

Star as you fell through the blue evening air
when I stood watching you, silent and thrilled,
I was supposed to have breathed a word of prayer
that some deep wish I had might be fulfilled.

But, star, oh, — white, round star, — I saw you fall,
breathlessly saw the light behind you trailed,
and I forgot the earth I trod, and all
earthly desires and wishes, — and I failed…

Bitter my sorrow now, and sore regret
not to have grasped the chance the day it came!
But such was your swift sudden spell, that yet
if others fell — I still would do the same!

I'm often dreaming
that I unfurl
my tall wings, gleaming
like mother-of-pearl,