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 Emilevich Mandelstam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/insomnia-homer-taut-canvas-2/
