Хвилі

           ’Nowwhatsituationwastheretoend?Dullnessanddoom.Andwhattoexplore?Theleavesandthewoodconcealednothing.IfabirdroseIshouldnolongermakeapoem--IshouldrepeatwhatIhadseenbefore.ThusifIhadastickwithwhichtopointtoindentationsinthecurveofbeing,thisisthelowest;hereitcoilsuselessonthemudwherenotidecomes--here,whereIsitwithmybacktoahedge,andmyhatovermyeyes,whilethesheepadvancedremorselesslyinthatwoodenwayoftheirs,stepbysteponstiff,pointedlegs.Butifyouholdabluntbladetoagrindstonelongenough,somethingspurts--ajaggededgeoffire;soheldtolackofreason,aimlessness,theusual,allmassedtogether,outspurtedinoneflamehatred,contempt.Itookmymind,mybeing,theolddejected,almostinanimateobject,andlasheditaboutamongtheseoddsandends,sticksandstraws,detestablelittlebitsofwreckage,flotsamandjetsam,floatingontheoilysurface.Ijumpedup.Isaid,"Fight!Fight!"Irepeated.Itistheeffortandthestruggle,itistheperpetualwarfare,itistheshatteringandpiecingtogether--thisisthedailybattle,defeatorvictory,theabsorbingpursuit.Thetrees,scattered,putonorder;thethickgreenoftheleavesthinneditselftoadancinglight.Inettedthemunderwithasuddenphrase.Iretrievedthemfromformlessnesswithwords.

           ’Thetraincamein.Lengtheningdowntheplatform,thetraincametoastop.Icaughtmytrain.AndsobacktoLondonintheevening.