Κι από την Αγγλία περνάμε γρήγορα στην Αμερική, για να συναντήσουμε τον Stephen Crane (1871 - 1900). Χαμένος πρόωρα από φυματίωση, άφησε - σε σχέση με τη σύντομη ζωή του - δυσανάλογα ογκώδες έργο. Η ταχύτητα με την οποία συνέθετε τα έργα του είναι παροιμιώδης. Δούλεψε κυρίως τον πεζό λόγο. Εδώ παραθέτουμε λίγους από τους στίχους του.
STEPHEN CRANE
The Black Riders and Other Lines
I
Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.
III
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
IV
Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.
VIII
I looked here;
I looked there;
Nowhere could I see my love.
And-this time-
She was in my heart.
Truly, then, I have no complaint,
For though she be fair and fairer,
She is none so fair as she In my heart.
XXIII
Places among the stars,
Soft gardens near the sun,
Keep your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait.
STEPHEN CRANE
The Black Riders and Other Lines
I
Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.
III
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
IV
Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.
VIII
I looked here;
I looked there;
Nowhere could I see my love.
And-this time-
She was in my heart.
Truly, then, I have no complaint,
For though she be fair and fairer,
She is none so fair as she In my heart.
XXIII
Places among the stars,
Soft gardens near the sun,
Keep your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait.
