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Курс закончен

Курс писательства закончился (и хорошо, потому что я уже утомилась). perelynn написала у себя отзыв -- если вы тоже к такому присматриваетесь, сходите почитайте.

А я поделюсь одним из последних упражнений на курсе. Нужно было написать в прозе короткий текст из двух частей: воспоминание о каком-то событии и свои по поводу него размышления. Потом текст полагалось перевести в белый стих.

On the salt flats, the silence
is like a pressure in our ears.
No bird will sing here.
The wind rests, coiled among the jutting
lying low in the jagged

The ground is furnace-hot.

In the glassy air,
faraway mountains seem
There was water here
Dry stream beds and
alluvial fans
still remember it.

As we leave the valley,
going up and up
towards the sky,
faces of stone look out
of canyon walls,
following us.
Who goes here?

And I start
unwinding the spool of time.

I think of the settlers
who had never made their way across
this valley,
whose bones lay
under creosote bushes,
white and dry,
or were carried away
by coyotes
to feed their young.

And of the first people who,
ages ago,
lived here among these rocks
under a vast sky
filled with constellations
so much brighter than our own.
At night, the whole sky
must have shone a deep
and brilliant blue,
and storms were new,
unknowable events
that threatened
to rend it.

The desert,
with its many faces
out of stone,
seemed alive.

(But do you know?
There are days
when this desolate place
yellow wildflowers
are born of the red
as far as the eye can see.)