Sacerda ([info]invidia) rakstīja,
@ 2012-03-25 10:38:00

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Es esmu sākusi cienīt un drusku mīlēt šo autoru ar tādu pašu jūsmu kā savulaik tulkoto Po. Es gribu, lai arī jums viņš patiktu.


H. P. Lovecraft
To a Dreamer

I scan thy features, calm and white
Beneath the single taper`s light;
Thy dark-fringed lids, behind whose screen
Are eyes that view not earth`s demesne.

And as I look, I fain would know
The paths whereon thy dream-steps go,
The spectral realms that thou canst see
With eyes veiled from the night and me.

For I have likewise gazed in sleep
On things my memory scarce can keep.
And from half-knowing long to spy
Again the scenes before thine eye.

I, too, have known the peaks of Thok;
The vales of Pnath, where dream-shapes flock;
The vaults of Zin - and well I trove
Why thou demand`st that taper`s glow.

But what is this that subtly slips
Over thy face and bearded lips?
What fear distracts thy mind and heart,
That drops must from thy forehead start?

Old vision wake - thine opening eyes
Gleam black with clouds of other skies,
And as from some demoniac sight
I flee into the haunted night.


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