În ţinută festivă
--Samain
Ca un văl de mătase ce flutură pe-un perete
Ea păşeşte pe o alee din Grădinile Kensington,
Şi se stinge încet
într-o epuizantă aşteptare.
Împrejur e-o mulţime
De copilaşi murdari,voinici şi de nestăvilit ai săracilor
Sunt cei ce vor moşteni pământul.
Dar ea e ultimul vlăstar al nobleţii.
Şi în sublimul ei plictis
Ar dori să-i vorbească cineva,
Însă, aproape că-i e teamă că eu
Voi săvârşi acesta necuviinţă.
The Garden
En robe de parade.
--Samain
LIKE a skein of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anemia.
And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor
They shall inherit the earth.
In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion.
En robe de parade.
--Samain
LIKE a skein of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anemia.
And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor
They shall inherit the earth.
In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion.
