Уистан Оден - Стихи и эссе

The piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Agents of the Fisc pursue
Absconding tax-defaulters through
The sewers of provincial towns.

Private rites of magic send
The temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati keep
An imaginary friend.

Cerebrotonic Cato may
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound Marines
Mutiny for food and pay.

Caesar's double-bed is warm
As an unimportant clerk
Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
On a pink official form.

Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put cr?pe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

Give me a doctor partridge-plump,
Short in the leg and broad in the rump,
An endomorph with gentle hands
Who'll never make absurd demands
That I abandon all my vices
Nor pull a long face in a crisis,
But with a twinkle in his eye
Will tell me that I have to die.

Small tyrants, threatened by big,
Sincerely believe
They love Liberty.

Tyrants may get slain,
But their hangmen usually
Die in their beds.

The tyrant's device:
Whatever is Possible
Is Necessary.

When Chiefs of State
Prefer to work at night,
Let the citizen beware.

Unwashed, unshat,
He was whisked from the plane
To a lunch in his honour.

He hears a 1oud-speaker
Call him wen known,
But knows himself no better.

The desolate fjord
Denied the possibility
Of many gods.

Twenty-eight years ago
Three slept well here.
Now one is married, one dead,

Where the harmonium stood
A radio:¬
Have the Fittest survived?

Unable to speak Icelandic,
He helped instead
To do the dishes.

The bondi's sheep-dog
and the visitor from New York
Conversed freely.

Snow had camouflaged
The pool of liquid manure:
The town-mouse fell in.

A blizzard. A bare room.
Thoughts of the past.
He forgot to wind his watch.

The gale howled over lava. Suddenly,
In the storm's eye,
A dark speck,

Perseus in an air-taxi,
Come to snatch
Shivering Andromeda

Out of the wilderness
And bring her back
To hot baths, cocktails, habits.

Once more
A child's dream verified
The magical light beyond Hekla.

Fortunate island,
Where all men are equal
But not vulgar-not yet.

They noticed that virginity was needed
To trap the unicorn in every case,
But not that, of those virgins who succeeded,
A high percentage had an ugly face.

The hero was a daring as they thought him,
But these peculiar boyhood missed them all;
The angel with the broken leg had taught him
The right precautions to avoid a fall.

So in presumption they set forth alone
On what, for them, was not compulsory:
And stuck hallway to settle in some cave
With desert lions in domesticity
Or turned aside to be absurdly brave
And met the ogre and were turned on stone.

Pick a quarrel, go to war,
Leave the hero in the bar;
Hunt the lion, climb the peak:
No one guesses you are weak.

The friends of the born nurse
Are always getting worse.

When he is well
She gives him hell;
But she's a brick
When he is sick.

You’re a long way off becoming a saint
So long as you suffer from any complaint;
But, if you don’t, there’s no denying
The chances are that you’re not trying.

I am afraid there is many a spectacled sod
Prefers the British Museum to God.

I'm beginning to lose patience
With my personal relations:
They are not deep,
And they are not cheap.

Those who will not reason
Perish in the act;
Those who will not act
Perish for that reason.

Let us honor if we can
The vertical man,
Though we value none
But the horizontal one.

'These had stopped seeking
But went on speaking,
Have not contributed
But have diluted.

These ordered light
But had no right,
These handed on
War and a son.

Wishing no harm
But to be warm,
These fell asleep.
On the burning heap.

Private faces
In public places
Are wiser and nicer
Than public faces
In private places.

I'm beginning to lose patience
With my personal relations:
They are not deep,
And they are not cheap.

Thoughts of his own death,
like the distant roll
of thunder at a picnic.

Bound to ourselves for life,
we must learn how to
put up with each other.

Fate succumbs
many species: one alone
jeopardises itself.

The palm extended in welcome:
Look! for you
I have unclenched my fist.

Animal femurs,
ascribed to saints who never
existed, are still

more holy than portraits
of conquerors who,
unfortunately, did.

Pulling on his socks,
he recall that his gran-pa
went pop in the act.

Man must either fall in love
with Someone or Something,
or else fall ill.

Nothing can be loved too much,
but all things can be loved
in the wrong way.

I'm for freedom because I mistrust the Censor in office,
But if I held the job, my! how severe I should be!

When he is well
She gives him hell;
But she's a brick
When he is sick.

They wondered why the fruit had been forbidden:
It taught them nothing new. They hid their pride,
But did not listen much when they were chidden:
They knew exactly what to do outside.

They left. Immediately the memory faded
Of all they known: they could not understand
The dogs now who before had always aided;
The stream was dumb with whom they'd always planned.

They wept and quarrelled: freedom was so wild.
In front maturity as he ascended
Retired like a horizon from the child,

The dangers and the punishments grew greater,
And the way back by angels was defended
Against the poet and the legislator.

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up on the cement wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.