NYU Black Renaissance Noire NYU Black Renaissance Noire Vol 17.2: Fall 2017 - Page 84

The sun beats lightning on the waves, The waves fold thunder on the sand; And could they hear me I would tell them: Wide from your side, whereto this hour The sea lifts, also, reliquary hands. And so, admitted through black swollen gates That must arrest all distance otherwise, — Past whirling pillars and lithe pediments, Light wrestling there incessantly with light, Star kissing star through wave on wave unto Your body rocking! and where death, if shed, Presumes no carnage, but this single change, — Upon the steep floor flung from dawn to dawn The silken skilled transmemberment of song; O brilliant kids, frisk with your dog, Fondle your shells and sticks, bleached By time and the elements; but there is a line You must not cross nor ever trust beyond it Spry cordage of your bodies to caresses Too lichen-faithful from too wide a breast. The bottom of the sea is cruel. II — And yet this great wink of eternity, Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings, Samite sheeted and processioned where Her undinal vast belly moonward bends, Laughing the wrapt inflections of our love; Permit me voyage, love, into your hands…. Take this Sea, whose diapason knells On scrolls of silver snowy sentences, The sceptred terror of whose sessions rends As her demeanors motion well or ill, All but the pieties of lovers’ hands. … Mark how her turning shoulders wind the hours, And hasten while her penniless rich palms Pass superscription of bent foam and wave, — Hasten, while they are true, — sleep, death, desire, Close round one instant in one floating flower. … Crane provides a new synesthetic color field with his sensual language. Permit us voyage, into the hands of each line, “through wave o ݅ٔ)չѼeȁɽtQe)ɡѡɍ́ѡհѼ)хͥ啅ɹѡq͕ɕ)ˊtѕɥ́ѡɽ՝ѡ)ѡչɥٕ̰͔݅ݥѠ)ѡՔqѥՑٕ́ϊt)ѡٕˊé̸]ѕȁѡ)ѥéȵ̵唰͕ѡ)é䁥ѥݥѠձ)ɕ͕Ёͽչ́ѡЁ)ѥٕͽѥ٥͍Ʌ)ɥQɗéͼͅ)͕͔Ȱͥɕͽ)ЁЁ]Ёݔ͕ɥ)ЁѡЁݡЁ́ݸѼ)ͥ5ɥїéљհ͕͔)ɕͽqɅɥ́ɕݸt)Ѽѡѕ䁽 Ʌé)%Q!յ ѥ5ɥє)ɽєqЁѡѡ݅́Ѽ)єѡɕݕ)٥܁͕ɽͥɽ)ͥtͼѽݔɔ)ɽ՝ЁѼѡѕЁѡ)ЁѡɥЁմ)Յɕѕɽ܁٥ܸ) Ʌɥ͕́́ݥѠ́ɵ)ͥ䁅ɵͽє)ɸЁՅѠѕɹ)ѕɹeչé+qIѽɅѥ=tͼɥ͕̰)ѥ́Ѡɵəѥ)ɵѡqչɽ啐)ݸӊtѡ͕)ѼЁх鄸%ͻeЁɥ͔)䁕Ёѡɽѥ፡)IMQ=IQ%=8=)]Ёѕ́ѽ݅ɐɉЁɕɸ)̰́ɽ́Ʌ͠Ս)ɕѽɔ̸]Ёݽձɽܰٔ)Ѽɍȁ́ɕѽɔ̸Iѽɔ)ѕ́ѕɕͥ䁉)ѕ́ѡЁɔ͡ɑ̸́5չх)ѡЁɔمȰ٥ѡɅ̰)ѡЁѹ́͹܁ɕѽɔ̸)=ͥɕq=ݡЁѡt)ͥq$eӊtɰͥ)ͽٔЁ̰ѡՈ)ݥѠЁѡɐɕѽɔ̸)Mչݕ̰Ё݅аЁ͔)͕ѡɥɽ͵)ͬՍѡ )ݥѡЁɕݥѡЁѡɅ͡)1Ё́եɅєݥѠѡ)ٕѡѡЁ́͡ɕѽɔ̰)́͡ͅ饹ѡݥ)ɕɅѡɥմ)ѡЁѥ́Ёа䁙ɥéа)ٕ́ѕȁՍɅѥ)͠ѠѡɅєЁ)ݥ͡Ёɕѽɔ̸ѡݡ)Ёɽѡݥ́́Ʌ)ͅ她q]̰ѡɔЁt)ɔչɽ啐ݸ)ѥэݥѠх̰)ɔЁѼѱ͡)ɔՕ́ɔ)1qٔЁ̳tѡe)ɕѕ́ѥх(ѕȁ͡ɐѹ)͹܁ѽ݅ɐɕ٥٥她ѡ)Ȱѽ݅ɐqɔt)ͼѽ݅ɐѕɥѽɥ镐)eչ́ͅЁQЁ=)I͹胊qQѥѡ)ɵѥ́չх䁕ɽѥ́)͕́Յ)ѡ́ɝ͵͕ɕɵѥ)ѡɽ՝չѕȁݥѠѡɹ̻t)ѥЁIЁI͍ɟe)͍ͥɕ́ ɹ ̀䤰)ɽ͕̰ѥ)Ё͕Յ镐́)ͽѵЁѡȁɅє̰)Ս́Ʌ́ݕ̰)ݕɔɅ͕ЁѥݥѠ)ѥЁձ́ɕٕɅ)ѥս́ѥ́ѡ)Ё̸1éѕ)ѽ݅ɐqѡɹ̳tѼ)Ѽхɥ̰ͭѼٕЁѡՉ)ѕȰѼ䁽܁չѕ)ͽѥѥ̰)I͍ɟéͥɔѼٔ݅)ɽѡɥɕх)ͽѥٕͽѡ)ɹɅݽɭ́ѡ卡)ѡ݅ͅ丁%Ё݅́ѡхͥ)ɽ́ѡѕѥ)Ёѡ́͠ѡ͕ٕ́ѡ)ɕٕѡɽѥձ͔Ё)ݽɬѕqݼ)ݥ͕ѡͅѡt%ѡ)́Ս䰁qݽɑϊmݥtٕ)ѥɔѡȁtѡݼ)̽ɕ́ݥɕٕ͕ѡͅ)ѡѡȸ)% յϊdq䁙ѡ)ٕѡɽ՝́ٔtѡ)ӊéѡȁٕ́ѡɽ՝qɥ)쀼Ʌͥɕ)ѡͥͥɔѼt)Qɔ́ɕɥ܁ٽ)ɽݡѼͥM+qͥɔѼt́ѡٕɈ)ѡ܁ո쁹܁ѡո)Ʌ᥍䁄ѽ)ݥѡ́ѕѥѥQ)ݽɬЁȁѡ͔ѥ)х́ɽչѡӊe)ѕи ɕѠȁɕѠ)ѥ́́Ѽѡẽqѽɥ)tͼݔɔ٥ݥѠѡ+qѡ́ݔͥ܁)ɕtє)ѡ՝ձݕɔݔхє́ɥа)ѕȁѕɱѡ́ݕа)䁵́յѠ)ݔɥа)ݔɔɅͱѕ䃊q́ͽ)ͼɔЁхȁ䁡ձ)ѕˊtݥѠѡéݸͥɔ)ɥ䁵ɍ݅ɐqѡɽ՝)́tѽ݅ɐٔ)5䁽ݸٕ́ɥ(ՉЁ͍ɥ͕́ѕ́)ٕɔѼՅѕɥ)ɽéɽѥٔ݅䁙ɽ)ѡ́ɕЁɥх)ݡɔqmuȁ́ͥє)́ѡЁѡͥϊt͍ѕ̤)ݡɔɽѥѕ́܁͕ͽ)ȁ͕́ݥѠMɔ)ݡ͔ɥqɽѠ)Չtȁѡ́ɥٕ́́Ѽ)ͽȁݸͥѕܰ)ɔѡչ䃊qե͕Ё݅)ɍѡɽ՝ѡȻtAéɅ)٥ɕ͕̃qѡɕɔͥɗt)͕ͥЁͱ䁥ѥ$)%%$+)$+