The House of Dust; a symphony

Conrad Potter Aiken

Capitolo 4

And him lost in the warm bright dream of wrapping,
With a sound of murmuring bawls and feet that move to work.

And one, from his/her bright tall window that looks down
On bright abysses that have split the city of basalt,
Feeling a sea-as murmurs increase,
Desired to leave his/her dream, comes down from the tower,
And he/she drowns in so that of cries and laughter and to whine.


V.

Snow is floating down on us, mixed with rain. . .
It eddies around pale lamps of lilac and falls
Down walls gilded-to windows.
We was born of meat in a shine of the pain,,
We don't remember the red roots from which we of rose,
But we know that we of rose and we walked, that after a po'
We will lie down again.

Snow is floating down on us, we turn, we turn,
Through throats filled with light we play and we flow. . .
One is stricken down and it made evil, we crowd there around him,
We bear away him to us, you look fixed after his/her careless body;
But if him alive or it dies us we don't know.

One of us sing in the road, and we listen to us him;
The words encircle us on likes vague bells of the pain.
He sings of a house in which he has lived a long time ago.
It is strange;  this house of dust was the house in which I have lived;
The house in which you have lived, the house that everybody of us knows.
And slowly winding around him, and laughing to him,
And throwing him/it penny, we am born away
A mournful echo of other times and places,
And it follows a dream. . . a dream that won't be.

Down wide and long flights of steps of lamplit we flow;
Noisy, in so that shed, overcrowding and cackle;
In slow falls and routs.
The gardens extend in front of us. . .  We scattered out quickly;
Trees are above of the obscurity and we.  The canyon is grown weak. . .

And we remember, with a stab that sparkles with sadness,
Vaguely and incoherently, of the dream
Of a world we came from, a world of sun-blue hills. . .
A black wood whispers around us, green glint of eyes;
Someone cries in the forest, and someone kills.

We flow to the east to the trembling and white-ruled sea,;
We reach the west, where the whirling sun went down;
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