To Brooklyn Brigdge by Hart Crane

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How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest
The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Over the chained bay waters Liberty--

Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes
As apparitional as sails that cross
Some page of figures to be filed away;
--Till elevators drop us from our day . . .

I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights
With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene
Never disclosed, but hastened to again,
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;

And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced
As though the sun took step of thee, yet left
Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,--
Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!

Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft
A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,
Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning,
A jest falls from the speechless caravan.

Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks,
A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene;
All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn . . .
Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still.

And obscure as that heaven of the Jews,
Thy guerdon . . . Accolade thou dost bestow
Of anonymity time cannot raise:
Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show.

O harp and altar, of the fury fused,
(How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!)
Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge,
Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry,--

Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift
Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,
Beading thy path--condense eternity:
And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.

Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;
Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.
The City's fiery parcels all undone,
Already snow submerges an iron year . . .

O Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God

From The Complete Poems and Selected Letters and Prose of Hart Crane


  1. Se ao menos eu conseguisse lembrar o suficiente da África do Sul para poder honrá-la da forma como Nova Iorque é aqui honrada.
    Mas não me lembro. Só me lembro duma felicidade infantil e uma sensação de integração que nunca mais encontrei...

    Kleiner Fucks sends you and Rita(?) a kiss

  2. Olá minha linda:

    Claro que podes por o logo no teu blog. Peço-te que mantenhas o liink para o site, já que, toda a divulgação é pouca...
    Quando cá vieres vamos, com toda a certeza, ver um peça ao Te-ato. Vale muito a pena...
    Eu deixei a África o Sul com 9 anos e nunca mais voltei. :(
    Os meus pais temem que eu vá devido à insegurança.
    O meu pai foi lá há uns dois anos e diz que, fora a sensação de perigo que existe em determinados sítios, esta mais ou menos na mesma...

    Um beijo enorme da kleiner Fuchs (Eu escrevi fucks?????? LOLOLOLOL Tristeza...)


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