threesics

0愛的鼓勵 0訂閱站台

RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT
RHAPSODY=狂想曲

        by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

            TWELVE o'clock.
            Along the reaches of the street
            Held in a lunar synthesis,
            Whispering lunar incantations
            Dissolve the floors of memory
            And all its clear relations,
            Its divisions and precisions,
            Every street lamp that I pass
            Beats like a fatalistic drum,
            And through the spaces of the dark
            Midnight shakes the memory
            As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
            
            Half-past one,
            The street lamp sputtered,
            The street lamp muttered,
            The street lamp said, "Regard that woman
            Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door
            Which opens on her like a grin.
            You see the border of her dress
            Is torn and stained with sand,
            And you see the corner of her eye
            Twists like a crooked pin."
            
            The memory throws up high and dry
            A crowd of twisted things;
            A twisted branch upon the beach
            Eaten smooth, and polished
            As if the world gave up
            The secret of its skeleton,
            Stiff and white.
            A broken spring in a factory yard,
            Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
            Hard and curled and ready to snap.
            
            Half-past two,
            The street lamp said,
            "Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
            Slips out its tongue
            And devours a morsel of rancid butter."