Way-Station
A
Archibald MacLeish
0
Altın Yaprak
The incoherent rushing of the train
Dulls like a drugged pain
Numbs
To an ether throbbing of inaudible drums
Unfolds
Hush within hush until the night withholds
Only its darkness.
From the deep
Dark a voice calls like a voice in sleep
Slowly a strange name in a strange tongue.
Among
The sleeping listeners a sound
As leaves stir faintly on the ground
When snow falls from a windless sky—
A stir A sigh
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş