ONCE BY THE PACIFIC

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the Light was spoken.

PUTTING IN THE SEED

You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea);
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a Springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

Spotkanie i rozminięcie

 
 Schodziłem z wzgórza wzdłuż muru przy bramie,
Gdziem dla widoku oparł się przez chwilę,
By odwróciwszy się zobaczyć ciebie —
Szłaś z dołu. Lecz w spotkaniu dnia tego jedynie
Siady drobnych i dużych stóp w piasku się rysują
Znak, że nas było mniej niżeli dwoje,
A jeszcze nie byliśmy jak jedno. Aż ruchem
Parasolki niepewność odcięłaś bez reszty.
Przez cały czas rozmowy uśmiech twój się błąkał
Ku czemuś, co przed sobą widziałaś na piasku,
(O, nie ubliżał mi nic ten obyczaj!)
Przeszedłem potem mimo tego, co minęłaś,
Nim spotkaliśmy się, byś i ty przeszła mimo.

 Przełożył
Aleksander Janta

SPRING POOLS

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods --
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
>From snow that melted only yesterday.

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.