War and Love/Apathy
APATHY
Come down the road and do not speak.You cannot know how strange it isTo walk upon a grey firm road again,To feel the noiseless waves of air break on one's flesh.
You do not speak, you do not look at me;Just walk in silence on the grey firm roadGuessing my mood by instinct, not by thought—For there is no weapon of tongue or glanceSo keen that it can stir my apathy,Can stab that bitterness to hope,Can pierce the humour to despair.
Silence fits the mood then—silence and you.
The trees beside the road—can you interpretThese fragments of leaf-music,Here a phrase, here a sort of melodyThat dies to silence or is brokenBy a full rustling that is discord?Can you interpret such a simple thing?
Can I interpret this blank apathy,This humourous bitterness?
Lean on the bridge now—do not speak—And watch the coloured water slipping past,While I struggle with myself,Confront half-impulses, half-desires,Grapple with lusterless definitions, Grin at my inarticulate impotenceAnd so fall back on—apathy!
The bridge has three curved spans,Is made of weathered stones,And rests upon two diamond-pointed piers—Is picturesque.(I have not lost all touch and taste for life,See beauty just as keenly, relish things.)The water here is black and specked with white;Under that tree the shallows grow to brown,Light amber where the sunlight straggles through—But yet, what colour is it if you watch the reedsOr if you only see the trees' reflection?
Flat on the surface rest the lily leaves(Some curled up inwards, though, like boats)And yellow heads thrust up on fine green throats.Two—three—a dozen—watch now—demoiselle fliesFlicker and flutter and dip and restTheir beryl-green or blue, dark Prussian blue, frail wingsOn spits and threads of water-plant.Notice all carefully, be precise, welcome the world.Do I miss these things? Overlook beauty?Not even the shadow of a birdPassing across that white reflected cloud.
And yet there's always something else—The way one corpse held its stiff yellow fingersAnd pointed, pointed to the huge dark holeGouged between ear and jaw right to the skull …
Did I startle you? What was the matter?Just a joke they told me yesterday,Really, really, not for ladies' ears.Forgive me; I'll not laugh so suddenly again.