domingo, 30 de outubro de 2011


So they swooped to their prey;
there was never such a spread of wings,
such a play of golden feathers,

though I did not see them,
I heard them, as I heard myself say,
O Thetis, O sea-mother;

Let me forget the other,
for to-day is to-day,
ringed and rayed with the word "beautiful";

how shall I answer him?
what is the answer to
Helena, which was the dream?

the rasp of a severed wheel,
the fury of steel upon steel,
the spark from a sword on a shield?

or the deathless spark
of Helena's wakening...
a touch in the dark?

H.D., Helen in Egypt, New Directions, s.d. (1961, 1ªed.)

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