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Stephen Crane (Стивен Крейн)


* * *


And you love me

I love you.

You are, then, cold coward.

Aye; but, beloved,
When I strive to come to you,
Man's opinions, a thousand thickets,
My interwoven existence,
My life,
Caught in the stubble of the world
Like a tender veil --
This stays me.
No strange move can I make
Without noise of tearing
I dare not.

If love loves,
There is no world
Nor word.
All is lost
Save thought of love
And place to dream.
You love me?

I love you.

You are, then, cold coward.

Aye; but, beloved -- 



Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
  2. Once a man clambering to the housetops
  3. To the maiden
  4. On the horizon the peaks assembled
  5. You tell me this is God?


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