Дилан наш Томас некоторым понравился и некоторые даже сообщили, что как раз про него вспоминали. Ну что, чуваки, снова Теодор наш Рётке.
In a Dark Time
by Theodore RoethkeIn a dark time, the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; I hear my echo in the echoing wood A lord of nature weeping to a tree. I live between the heron and the wren, Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den. What's madness but nobility of soul At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! I know the purity of pure despair, My shadow pinned against a sweating wall. That place among the rocks — is it a cave, Or winding path? The edge is what I have. A steady storm of correspondences! A night flowing with birds, a raggèd moon, And in broad day the midnight come again! A man goes far to find out what he is — Death of the self in a long, tearless night, All natural shapes blazing unnatural light. Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
