sábado, 12 de novembro de 2011

The Unquiet Street

By day and night this street is not still;
Omnibuses with red tail-lamps,
Taxicabs with shiny eyes,
Rumble, shunning its ugliness.
It is corrugated with wheel-ruts,
It is dented and pockmarked with traffic,
It has no time for sleep.
It heaves its old scarred countenance
Skyward between the buildings
And never says a word.

On rainy nights
It dully gleams
Like the cold tarnished scales of a snake:
And over it hang arc-lamps
Blue-white death-lilies on black stems.

John Gould Fletcher, in Imagist Poetry, Penguin Books, 1972.

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