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Publié par Moicani



WATER-LILIES

Unwedded from the world, I stray through trees
To where a pool lies mirrored in the sun
A disk of polished gold that I have won
With labours not unknown to Hercules.

Slender they bathe, all naked as a breeze,
Their nipples hollow and their hair undone,
While from their widespread thighs cool ripples run
To rock the water-lilies round their knees.

Nymphs of the fountains, naiads innocent,
Frail sunbeams who have passed between my arms
So beautiful in your imprisonment,
Fill now my soul with symbols of delight:
Soft voices and soft fingers and soft charms
And the perfume of the lotus in the night.



SUN-RHAPSODY

The Sun! the Sun!

a fish in the aquarium of sky
or golden net to snare the butterfly
of soul
or else the hole
through which the stars have disappeared

it is a forest without trees
it is a lion in a cage of breeze
it is the roundness of her knees
great Hercules
and all the seas
and our soliloquies

winter-cold anchorite
summer-hot sybarite
to-day a lady wraped in clouds
tomorrow hunted by the hungry clouds
it is a monster that our thoughts have speared
the queen we chanticleered

a mother's womb
a child's balloon-
red burning tomb



THEY

Like mutilated skulls they roll
Across the soul's white sand
And only she can make a wall
And only she can understand

Let my experience be a lamp displayed
To light the untried lover to his maid.

STUDY FOR A SOUL

the colors have begun to form
silvergray with cramoisy and gold
into an arrow carved by storm
beyond the fear of new and old

and where the arrow fits the bow
the untroubled darkness of her eyes
watches the red-gold target grow
strong is the sun that purifies

but I have sought in vain to find
the riddle of the bow and archer
there were no shadows left behind
after the heart's departure.




ZORAH

An Arab beats upon a kettle drum,
And tuneless is the wailing of the flutes
As on the sands a slavegirl executes
Her dance of wantonwild delirium;
Her body swaying like a pendulum
Backwards and forwards, while in evolutes
She weaves and weaves before fierce pagan brutes
Who gaze at her in wonder that is dumb.

I look upon her limbs bronzed by the sun,
And see within her eyes strange caravans,
Marching all day across blank desert lands,
Until they come at night to where in rings
The Nomad fires glimmer, one by one,
around the tombs of longforgotten kings.


DRYADE

Raymonde
If it were not for you
I would not be glad today
And I would continue to dream
Of lovely ladies in lands long ago
Or of maidens
that have not yet been born

If it were not for you
I would not enjoy quiet
Neither the moonlight, nor the stars,
Nor could I appreciate the fountains
Whose cool fingers
Wander among violets.

And it is because of you
Because you are beautiful
That I weave colors in the sun
Through whose great garden we have strayed unveiled
Chaste, interlaced,
With broken thoughts, half-spun.








Biographie d'Harry Crosby

  • Sonnets for Caresse. Paris. Herbert Clarke. 1925

     

  • Sonnets for Caresse. 2nd Edition. Paris. Herbert Clarke. 1926

     

  • Sonnets for Caresse. 3rd Edition. Paris. Albert Messein. 1926

     

  • Sonnets for Caresse. 4th Edition. Paris. Editions Narcisse. 1927

     

  • Red Skeletons. Paris. Editions Narcisse. 1927.

     

  • Chariot of the Sun. Paris. At the Sign of the Sundial. 1928

     

  • Shadows of the Sun. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1928

     

  • Transit of Venus. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1928

     

  • Transit of Venus. 2nd Edition. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1929

     

  • Mad Queen. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1929

     

  • Shadows of the Sun- Series Two. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1929

     

  • The Sun. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1929

     

  • Sleeping Together. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1929

     

  • Shadows of the Sun- Series Three. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1930

     

  • Aphrodite in Flight: Being Some Observations on the Aerodynamics of Love. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1930

     

  • Collected Poems of Harry Crosby. (4 Volumes). Paris. Black Sun Press. 1931-1932

     

  • War Letters. Preface by Henrietta Crosby. Paris. Black Sun Press. 1932

     

 

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