Hilda Doolittle (Хильда Дулитл)

Holy Satyr

Most holy Satyr,
like a goat,
with horns and hooves
to match thy coat
of russet brown,
I make leaf-circlets
and a crown of honey-flowers
for thy throat;
where the amber petals
drip to ivory,
I cut and slip
each stiffened petal
in the rift
of carven petal;
honey horn
has wed the bright
virgin petal of the white
flower cluster: lip to lip
let them whisper,
let them lilt, quivering.

Most holy Satyr,
like a goat,
hear this our song,
accept our leaves,
love-offering,
return our hymn,
like echo fling
a sweet song,
answering note for note.

1. From Citron-Bower
2. After Troy
3. The Mysteries Remain
4. Thetis
5. Heat

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1148

Последние стихотворения

To English version