Conrad Potter Aiken: Все стихи поэта

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The Window

She looks out in the blue morning

and sees a whole wonderful world

she looks out in the morning

and sees a whole world

she leans out of the window

and this is what she sees

a wet rose singing to the sun

with a chorus of red bees

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Zudora

Here on the pale beach, in the darkness;

With the full moon just to rise;

They sit alone, and look over the sea,

Or into each other's eyes. . .

She pokes her parasol into the sleepy sand,

Or sifts the lazy whiteness through her hand.

'A lovely night,' he says, 'the moon,

Comes up for you and me.

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Nocturne Of Remembered Spring

Moonlight silvers the tops of trees,

Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall

And through the evening fall,

Clearly, as if through enchanted seas,

Footsteps passing, an infinite distance away,

In another world and another day.

Moonlight turns the purple lilacs blue,

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Chiaroscuro Rose

Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal.

Sit at the western window. Take the sun

Between your hands like a ball of flaming crystal,

Poise it to let it fall, but hold it still,

And meditate on the beauty of your existence;

The beauty of this, that you exist at all.

She

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Dancing Adairs

Behold me, in my chiffon, gauze, and tinsel,

Flitting out of the shadow into the spotlight,

And into the shadow again, without a whisper!—

Firefly's my name, I am evanescent.

Firefly's your name. You are evanescent.

But I follow you as remorselessly as darkness,

And shut you in and enclose you, at last, and always,

Till you are lost,—as a voice is lost in silence.

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Senlin:A Biography: Pt 03 His Cloudy Destiny

Part 03: His Cloudy Destiny - 01

Senlin sat before us and we heard him.

He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him.

Was he small, with reddish hair,

Did he light his pipe with a meditative stare

And a twinkling flame reflected in blue eyes?

'I am alone': said Senlin; 'in a forest of leaves

The single leaf that creeps and falls.

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations

Part 02: His Futile Preoccupations - 01

I am a house, says Senlin, locked and darkened,

Sealed from the sun with wall and door and blind.

Summon me loudly, and you'll hear slow footsteps

Ring far and faint in the galleries of my mind.

You'll hear soft steps on an old and dusty stairway;

Peer darkly through some corner of a pane,

You'll see me with a faint light coming slowly,

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Improvisations: Light And Snow: 13

My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,

In the very centre, dark and forgotten,

Is a locked room where an enchanted princess

Lies sleeping.

But sometimes, in that dark house,

As if almost from the stars, far away,

Sounds whisper in that secret room —

Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Improvisations: Light And Snow: 09

This girl gave her heart to me,

And this, and this.

This one looked at me as if she loved me,

And silently walked away.

This one I saw once and loved, and never saw her again.

Shall I count them for you upon my fingers?

Or like a priest solemnly sliding beads?

Or pretend they are roses, pale pink, yellow, and white,

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Senlin: A Biography Pt 01:His Dark Origins

Senlin sits before us, and we see him.

He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him.

Is he small, with reddish hair,

Does he light his pipe with meditative stare,

And a pointed flame reflected in both eyes?

Is he sad and happy and foolish and wise?

Did no one see him enter the doors of the city,

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Improvisations: Light And Snow: 05

When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of icicles

In many lengths along a wall

I was dissappointed to find

That I could not play music upon them:

I ran my hand lightly across them

And they fell, tinkling.

I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of life

Will not be too great.

by Conrad Potter Aiken

Improvisations: Light And Snow: 07

The day opens with the brown light of snowfall

And past the window snowflakes fall and fall.

I sit in my chair all day and work and work

Measuring words against each other.

I open the piano and play a tune

But find it does not say what I feel,

I grow tired of measuring words against each other,

I grow tired of these four walls,

by Conrad Potter Aiken