Harold Hart Crane (21 July 1899 – 27 April 1932 / Garrettsville, Ohio)
My hands have not touched water since your hands, -
No; - nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell'.
And with the day, distance again expands
Between us, voiceless as an uncoiled shell.
Yet, - much follows, much endures… Trust birds alone:
A dove's wings clung about my heart last night
With surging gentleness; and the blue stone
Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.