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Название книги: Стихи
Автор(ы): Уистан Оден
Жанр: Поэзия
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/stihi-201822.html
Уистан Хью Оден Стихи ARCHAEOLOGY The archaeologist's spade
delves into dwellings
vacancied long ago, unearthing evidence
of life-ways no one
would dream of leading now, concerning which he has not much
to say that he can prove:
the lucky man! Knowledge may have its purposes,
but guessing is always
more fun than knowing. We do know that Man,
from fear or affection,
has always graved His dead. What disastered a city,
volcanic effusion,
fluvial outrage, or a human horde,
agog for slaves and glory,
is visually patent, and we're pretty sure that,
as soon as palaces were built,
their rulers though gluttoned on sex
and blanded by flattery,
must often have yawned. But do grain-pits signify
a year of famine?
Where a coin-series peters out, should we infer
some major catastrophe?
Maybe. Maybe. From murals and statues
we get a glimpse of what
the Old Ones bowed down to, but cannot conceit
in what situations they blushed
or shrugged their shoulders. Poets have learned us their myths,
but just how did They take them?
Название книги: Стихи
Автор(ы): Уистан Оден
Жанр: Поэзия
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/stihi-201822.html
Уистан Хью Оден Стихи ARCHAEOLOGY The archaeologist's spade
delves into dwellings
vacancied long ago, unearthing evidence
of life-ways no one
would dream of leading now, concerning which he has not much
to say that he can prove:
the lucky man! Knowledge may have its purposes,
but guessing is always
more fun than knowing. We do know that Man,
from fear or affection,
has always graved His dead. What disastered a city,
volcanic effusion,
fluvial outrage, or a human horde,
agog for slaves and glory,
is visually patent, and we're pretty sure that,
as soon as palaces were built,
their rulers though gluttoned on sex
and blanded by flattery,
must often have yawned. But do grain-pits signify
a year of famine?
Where a coin-series peters out, should we infer
some major catastrophe?
Maybe. Maybe. From murals and statues
we get a glimpse of what
the Old Ones bowed down to, but cannot conceit
in what situations they blushed
or shrugged their shoulders. Poets have learned us their myths,
but just how did They take them?
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