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Stephen Crane (Стивен Крейн)


* * *


A little ink more or less!
I surely can’t matter?
Even the sky and the opulent sea,
The plains and the hills, aloof,
Hear the uproar of all these books.
But it is only a little ink more or less.

What?
You define me God with these trinkets?
Can my misery meal on an ordered walking
Of surpliced numskulls?
And a fanfare of lights?
Or even upon the measured pulpitings
Of the familiar false and true?
Is this God?
Where, then, is hell?
Show me some bastard mushroom
Sprung from a pollution of blood.
It is better.

Where is God?



Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Tell brave deeds of war
  2. When a people reach the top of a hill
  3. There was set before me a mighty hill
  4. There was a man with tongue of wood
  5. The impact of a dollar upon the heart


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