Стихи и эссе

Small tyrants, threatened by big,
Sincerely believe
They love Liberty.

* * *

Tyrants may get slain,
But their hangmen usually
Die in their beds.

* * *

The tyrant's device:
Whatever is Possible
Is Necessary.

* * *

When Chiefs of State
Prefer to work at night,
Let the citizen beware.

Iceland revisited (for Basil and Susan Boothby) Encounter July 1964

* * *

Unwashed, unshat,
He was whisked from the plane
To a lunch in his honour.

* * *

He hears a 1oud-speaker
Call him wen known,
But knows himself no better.

* * *

The desolate fjord
Denied the possibility
Of many gods.

* * *

Twenty-eight years ago
Three slept well here.
Now one is married, one dead,

Where the harmonium stood
A radio:¬
Have the Fittest survived?

* * *

Unable to speak Icelandic,
He helped instead
To do the dishes.

* * *

The bondi's sheep-dog
and the visitor from New York
Conversed freely.

* * *

Snow had camouflaged
The pool of liquid manure:
The town-mouse fell in.

* * *