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Dylan Thomas (Дилан Томас)


Twenty-Four Years


Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.



Dylan Thomas's other poems:
  1. Not from This Anger
  2. January 1939
  3. When, Like a Running Grave
  4. My World Is Pyramid
  5. Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes in the Cuckoo’s Month


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