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Ukázky
Kisiabaton
Beat-up datsun idling in the road shreds of fog almost-vertical hillsides drop away huge stumps fading into mist soft warm rain Snaggy, forked and spreading tops, a temperate cloud-forest tree Chamaecyparis formosiana-- Taiwan hinoki, hung-kuai red cypress That the tribal people call kisiabaton this rare old tree is what we came to see.
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At Tower Peak
Every tan rolling meadow will turn into housing Freeways are clogged all day Academies packed with scholars writing papers City people lean and dark This land most real As its western-tending golden slopes And bird-entangled central valley swamps Sea-lion, urchin coasts Southerly salmon-probes Into the aromatic almost-Mexican hills Along a range of granite peaks The names forgotten, An eastward running river that ends out in desert The chipping ground-squirrels in the tumbled blocks The gloss of glacier ghost on slab Where we wake refreshed from ten hours sleep After a long day's walking Packing burdens to the snow Wake to the same old world of no names, No things, new as ever, rock and water, Cool dawn birdcalls, high jet contrails. A day or two or million, breathing A few steps back from what goes down In the current realm. A kind of ice age, spreading, filling valleys Shaving soils, paving fields, you can walk in it Live in it, drive through it then It melts away For whatever sprouts After the age of Frozen hearts. Flesh-carved rock And gusts on the summit, Smoke from forest fires is white, The haze above the distant valley like a dusk. It's just one world, this spine of rock and streams And snow, and the wash of gravels, silts Sands, bunchgrasses, saltbrush, bee-fields, Twenty million human people, downstream, here below.
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Informace
O autorovi
Bibliografické údaje
- Autor: Gary Snyder
- Jazyk: Angličtina
- Rok vydání: 1992
- Žánr(y): poezie
- Jazyk originálu: Angličtina