"Sonety, jaká slast..."
Ivan Blatný

Leden 2012

John Ashbery - 2 sonety (1956, 2009)

24. ledna 2012 v 9:53 Sonety
Sonnet (ze sb. "Some Trees", 1956)

Each servant stamps the reader with a look.
After many years he has been brought nothing.
The servant's frown is the reader's patience.
The servant goes to bed.
The patience rambles on
Musing on the library's lofty holes.

His pain is the servant's alive.
It pushes to the top stain of the wall
Its tree-top's head of excitement:
Baskets, birds, beetles, spools.
The light walls collapse next day.
Traffic is the reader's pictured face.
Dear, be the tree your sleep awaits;
Worms be your words, you not safe from ours.

Lost Sonnet (The New Yorker, 2009)

They grow up too fast
these days. Unassumingness
becomes unwieldy, the woods
a place to walk from briskly.
You say your cunning comportment
is artless? Well then so am I
for containing you, champ.
Your tracks are alive with new interest.

The trail always sees what's up ahead,
which is resistance. No tooth
or star contradicts what is made
and hard to screw up. Wash the guest's
feet, the aviator. Jack was his name
and we were like brothers, though we never knew each other.