Волны

           ’Hereinthisdining-roomyouseetheantlersandthetumblers;thesalt-cellars;theyellowstainsonthetablecloth."Waiter!"saysBernard."Bread!"saysSusan.Andthewaitercomes;hebringsbread.ButIseethesideofacuplikeamountainandonlypartsofantlers,andthebrightnessonthesideofthatjuglikeacrackindarknesswithwonderandterror.Yourvoicessoundliketreescreakinginaforest.Sowithyourfacesandtheirprominencesandhollows.Howbeautiful,standingatadistanceimmobileatmidnightagainsttherailingsofsomesquare!Behindyouisawhitecrescentoffoam,andfishermenonthevergeoftheworldaredrawinginnetsandcastingthem.Awindrufflesthetopmostleavesofprimevaltrees.(YetherewesitatHamptonCourt.)Parrotsshriekingbreaktheintensestillnessofthejungle.(Herethetramsstart.)Theswallowdipsherwingsinmidnightpools.(Herewetalk.)ThatisthecircumferencethatItrytograspaswesittogether.ThusImustundergothepenanceofHamptonCourtatseventhirtyprecisely.

           ’Butsincetheserollsofbreadandwinebottlesareneededbyme,andyourfaceswiththeirhollowsandprominencesarebeautiful,andthetable-clothanditsyellowstain,farfrombeingallowedtospreadinwiderandwidercirclesofunderstandingthatmayatlast(soIdream,fallingofftheedgeoftheearthatnightwhenmybedfloatssuspended)embracetheentireworld,Imustgothroughtheanticsoftheindividual.Imuststartwhenyoupluckatmewithyourchildren,yourpoems,yourchilblainsorwhateveritisthatyoudoandsuffer.ButIamnotdeluded.