The tyrant's device:Whatever is PossibleIs Necessary.* * *When Chiefs of StatePrefer to work at night,Let the citizen beware.<p>Iceland revisited</p><p>(for Basil and Susan Boothby)</p><p>Encounter July 1964</p>* * *Unwashed, unshat,He was whisked from the planeTo a lunch in his honour.* * *He hears a 1oud-speakerCall him wen known,But knows himself no better.* * *The desolate fjordDenied the possibilityOf many gods.* * *Twenty-eight years agoThree slept well here.Now one is married, one dead,Where the harmonium stoodA radio:¬Have the Fittest survived?* * *Unable to speak Icelandic,He helped insteadTo do the dishes.* * *The bondi's sheep-dogand the visitor from New YorkConversed freely.* * *Snow had camouflagedThe pool of liquid manure:The town-mouse fell in.* * *A blizzard. A bare room.Thoughts of the past.He forgot to wind his watch.* * *The gale howled over lava. Suddenly,In the storm's eye,A dark speck,Perseus in an air-taxi,Come to snatchShivering AndromedaOut of the wildernessAnd bring her backTo hot baths, cocktails, habits.* * *Once moreA child's dream verifiedThe magical light beyond Hekla.* * *Fortunate island,Where all men are equalBut not vulgar-not yet.<p>THE PRESUMPTUOUS</p>They noticed that virginity was neededTo trap the unicorn in every case,But not that, of those virgins who succeeded,A high percentage had an ugly face.The hero was a daring as they thought him,But these peculiar boyhood missed them all;The angel with the broken leg had taught himThe right precautions to avoid a fall.So in presumption they set forth aloneOn what, for them, was not compulsory:And stuck hallway to settle in some caveWith desert lions in domesticityOr turned aside to be absurdly braveAnd met the ogre and were turned on stone.<p>Короткие стихи 1929-1931</p>
1
Pick a quarrel, go to war,Leave the hero in the bar;Hunt the lion, climb the peak:No one guesses you are weak.
2
The friends of the born nurseAre always getting worse.
3
When he is wellShe gives him hell;But she's a brickWhen he is sick.
4
You’re a long way off becoming a saintSo long as you suffer from any complaint;But, if you don’t, there’s no denyingThe chances are that you’re not trying.
5
I am afraid there is many a spectacled sodPrefers the British Museum to God.
6
I'm beginning to lose patienceWith my personal relations:They are not deep,And they are not cheap.
7
Those who will not reasonPerish in the act;Those who will not actPerish for that reason.
8
Let us honor if we canThe vertical man,Though we value noneBut the horizontal one.
