Волны

           Walkingontheembankment,IprayedthatImightthunderforeveronthevergeoftheworldwherethereisnovegetation,buthereandthereamarblepillar.Ithrewmybunchintothespreadingwave.Isaid,"Consumeme,carrymetothefurthestlimit."Thewavehasbroken;thebunchiswithered.IseldomthinkofPercivalnow.

           ’NowIclimbthisSpanishhill;andIwillsupposethatthismule-backismybedandthatIliedying.Thereisonlyathinsheetbetweenmenowandtheinfinitedepths.Thelumpsinthemattresssoftenbeneathme.Westumbleup--westumbleon.Mypathhasbeenupandup,towardssomesolitarytreewithapoolbesideitontheverytop.Ihaveslicedthewatersofbeautyintheeveningwhenthehillsclosethemselveslikebirds’wingsfolded.Ihavepickedsometimesaredcarnation,andwispsofhay.Ihavesunkaloneontheturfandfingeredsomeoldboneandthought:Whenthewindstoopstobrushthisheight,maytherebenothingfoundbutapinchofdust.

           ’Themulestumblesupandon.Theridgeofthehillriseslikemist,butfromthetopIshallseeAfrica.Nowthebedgivesunderme.Thesheetsspottedwithyellowholesletmefallthrough.Thegoodwomanwithafacelikeawhitehorseattheendofthebedmakesavaledictorymovementandturnstogo.Whothencomeswithme?Flowersonly,thecowbindandthemoonlight-colouredMay.GatheringthemlooselyinasheafImadeofthemagarlandandgavethem--Oh,towhom?Welaunchoutnowovertheprecipice.Beneathusliethelightsoftheherringfleet.Thecliffsvanish.