Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvas. <br />Half the catalogue of ships is mine: <br />that flight of cranes, long stretched-out line, <br />that once rose, out of Hellas. <br /> <br />To an alien land, like a phalanx of cranes – <br />Foam of the gods on the heads of kings – <br />Where do you sail? What would the things <br />of Troy, be to you, Achaeans, without Helen? <br /> <br />The sea, or Homer – all moves by love’s glow. <br />Which should I hear? Now Homer is silent, <br />and the Black Sea thundering its oratory, turbulent, <br />and, surging, roars against my pillow.<br /><br />Osip Mandelstam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/insomnia-homer-taut-canvas/
