<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> I wanted to be sure to reach you; though my ship was on the way it got caught in some moorings. I am always tying up and then deciding to depart. In storms and at sunset, with the metallic coils of the tide around my fathomless arms, I am unable to understand the forms of my vanity or I am hard alee with my Polish rudder in my hand and the sun sinking. To you I offer my hull and the tattered cordage of my will. The terrible channels where the wind drives me against the brown lips of the reeds are not all behind me. Yet I trust the sanity of my vessel; and if it sinks, it may well be in answer to the reasoning of the eternal voices, the waves which have kept me from reaching you. 致港务长 弗兰克·奥哈拉 我曾一心希望到达港口; 虽然我的船半道上 被迫落锚。我系好缆 又决定开拔。在暴风中 在日落时,海潮金属的神圈 绕着我深不可测的手臂 我不理解自己虚荣的形式, 也可能我总处于手中 波兰舵的下风,而太阳西沉。 我交给你我意志的船体 和碎烂的索具。风把我赶向 芦笛棕色的嘴唇,那可拍的 海峡总走不完。但我依然 相信我的船是清醒的; 要是它下沉,必是为了回答 永恒之声的说理,那波浪 一直阻拦我到达你的港口。
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