#English
Liza, go steep your long white han… In the cool waters of that spring Which bubbles up through shiny san… The colour of a wild-dove’s wing. Dabble your hands, and steep them…
This is the bricklayer; hear the t… Of his heavy load dumped down on s… His lustrous bricks are brighter t… His smoking mortar whiter than bon… Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten…
I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb
Hate in the world’s hand Can carve and set its seal Like the strong blast of sand Which cuts into steel. I have seen how the finger of hate
A white well In a black cave; A bright shell In a dark wave. A white rose
You are a rose, but set with sharp… You are a pretty bird that pecks a… You are a little squirrel on a tre… Pelting me with the prickly fruit… A diamond, torn from a crystal min…
Within my house of patterned horn I sleep in such a bed As men may keep before they’re bor… And after when they’re dead. Sticks and stones may break their…
Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds
For this you’ve striven Daring, to fail: Your sky is riven Like a tearing veil. For this, you’ve wasted
For a picture This Pekingese, that makes the sa… Is digging little tunnels to Peki… Dream him emerging in a porcelain… Where wounded dragons stain a pear…
The garden’s full of scented wallf… And, save that these stir faintly,… Only a distant bell in hollow chim… Cried out just now for far-forgote… And three reverberate words the gr…
Allegra, rising from her canopied… Slides both white feet across the… Which lace the peacock jalousies:… An idol of fine clay, with feet of…
I cannot give you the Metropolita… I cannot give you heaven; Nor the nine Visigoth crowns in t… Nor happiness, even. But I can give you a very small p…
BARCAROLE ON THE STYX<… Fair youth with the rose at your l… A riddle is hid in your eyes; Discard conversational quips, Give over elaborate disguise.
Beauty has a tarnished dress, And a patchwork cloak of cloth Dipped deep in mournfulness, Striped like a moth. Wet grass where it trails