Стихи и эссе

Оден Уистан Хью

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

THE PRESUMPTUOUS

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.

Короткие

стихи 1929-1931

1

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

2

The friends of the born nurse Are always getting worse.

3

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

4

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.

5

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

6

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

7

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

8

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

9

'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.

10

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

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

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

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

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Fate succumbs many species: one alone jeopardises itself.

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

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Animal femurs, ascribed to saints who never existed, are still more holy than portraits of conquerors who, unfortunately, did.

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

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

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

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

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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…

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…

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.

The Chimney Sweepers

The chimney sweepers Wash their faces and forget to wash the neck; The lighthouse keepers Let the lamps go out and leave the ships to wreck; The prosperous baker Leaves the rolls in hundreds in the oven to burn; The undertaker Puts a small note on the coffin saying: "Wait till I return, I've got a date with Love!" And deep-sea divers Cut their boots off and come bubbling to the top; And engine drivers Bring expresses in the tunnel to a stop; The village rector Dashes down the side-aisle half-way through a psalm; The sanitary inspector Runs off with the cover of the cesspool on his arm — To keep his date with Love!