Malade - Бесплатная аудиокнига

LAST WORDS TO MIRIAM

YOURS is the shame and sorrow
       But the disgrace is mine;
     Your love was dark and thorough,
     Mine was the love of the sun for a flower
       He creates with his shine.

     I was diligent to explore you,
       Blossom you stalk by stalk,
     Till my fire of creation bore you
     Shrivelling down in the final dour
       Anguish—then I suffered a balk.

     I knew your pain, and it broke
       My fine, craftsman's nerve;
     Your body quailed at my stroke,
     And my courage failed to give you the last
       Fine torture you did deserve.

     You are shapely, you are adorned,
       But opaque and dull in the flesh,
     Who, had I but pierced with the thorned
     Fire-threshing anguish, were fused and cast
       In a lovely illumined mesh.

     Like a painted window: the best
       Suffering burnt through your flesh,
     Undrossed it and left it blest
     With a quivering sweet wisdom of grace: but
          now
       Who shall take you afresh?

     Now who will burn you free
       From your body's terrors and dross,
     Since the fire has failed in me?
     What man will stoop in your flesh to plough
       The shrieking cross?

     A mute, nearly beautiful thing
       Is your face, that fills me with shame
     As I see it hardening,
     Warping the perfect image of God,
       And darkening my eternal fame.