Хвилі

           Herearechairsturnedbutnobodysitsonthem.Hereareemptytablesandnobodyanymorecomingtodineatthemto-night.

           ’Letmenowraisemysongofglory.Heavenbepraisedforsolitude.Letmebealone.Letmecastandthrowawaythisveilofbeing,thiscloudthatchangeswiththeleastbreath,nightandday,andallnightandallday.WhileIsathereIhavebeenchanging.Ihavewatchedtheskychange.Ihaveseencloudscoverthestars,thenfreethestars,thencoverthestarsagain.NowIlookattheirchangingnomore.NownooneseesmeandIchangenomore.Heavenbepraisedforsolitudethathasremovedthepressureoftheeye,thesolicitationofthebody,andallneedofliesandphrases.

           ’Mybook,stuffedwithphrases,hasdroppedtothefloor.Itliesunderthetable,tobesweptupbythecharwomanwhenshecomeswearilyatdawnlookingforscrapsofpaper,oldtramtickets,andhereandthereanotescrewedintoaballandleftwiththelittertobesweptup.Whatisthephraseforthemoon?Andthephraseforlove?Bywhatnamearewetocalldeath?Idonotknow.Ineedalittlelanguagesuchasloversuse,wordsofonesyllablesuchaschildrenspeakwhentheycomeintotheroomandfindtheirmothersewingandpickupsomescrapofbrightwool,afeather,orashredofchintz.Ineedahowl;acry.WhenthestormcrossesthemarshandsweepsovermewhereIlieintheditchunregardedIneednowords.Nothingneat.Nothingthatcomesdownwithallitsfeetonthefloor.