insomnia
instead of studying for my latin test, instead of sleeping,
This sleeplessness. And Homer. My sails tugged in tight.
A catalogue of ships I've half-through read and known.
These trailing litterlings, this crane-like railroad train,
Which over Greece had risen, once upon a time.
A crane-ish pointed wedge to the borders of strange men.
Along the heads of kings sea sprays a champagne halo.
Where are you guys sailing? If he'd never lost Helen,
Achaean soldiers, what would Troy alone have been?
Both Homer and the sea-hell, everything is moved by love.
But what becomes of me? And now, now Homer's silence,
And roars of oratory noise from the Black sea,
And crashes, fearful, drawing near my brittle bed head.
the original is osip mandelstam's "Бессоница. Гомер. Тугие паруса," written in 1915
This sleeplessness. And Homer. My sails tugged in tight.
A catalogue of ships I've half-through read and known.
These trailing litterlings, this crane-like railroad train,
Which over Greece had risen, once upon a time.
A crane-ish pointed wedge to the borders of strange men.
Along the heads of kings sea sprays a champagne halo.
Where are you guys sailing? If he'd never lost Helen,
Achaean soldiers, what would Troy alone have been?
Both Homer and the sea-hell, everything is moved by love.
But what becomes of me? And now, now Homer's silence,
And roars of oratory noise from the Black sea,
And crashes, fearful, drawing near my brittle bed head.
the original is osip mandelstam's "Бессоница. Гомер. Тугие паруса," written in 1915