Sudaki Bir Çınar Gibi (Robert Lowell)

As a Plane Tree by the Water by Robert Lowell Darkness has called to darkness, and disgrace Elbows about our windows in this planned Babel of Boston where our money talks And multiplies the darkness of a land Of preparation where the Virgin walks And roses spiral her enamelled face Or fall to splinters on unwatered streets. Our Lady of Babylon, go by, go by, I was once the apple of your eye; Flies, flies are on the plane tree, on the streets. The flies, the flies, the flies of Babylon Buzz in my ear-drums while the devil's long Dirge of the people detonates the hour For floating cities where his golden tongue Enchants the masons of the Babel Tower To raise tomorrow's city to the sun That never sets upon these hell-fire streets Of Boston, where the sunlight is a sword Striking at the withholder of the Lord: Flies, flies are on the plane tree, on the streets. Flies strike the miraculous waters of the iced Atlantic and the eyes of Bernadette Who saw Our Lady standing in the cave At Massabielle, saw her so squarely that Her vision put out reason's eyes. The grave Is open-mouthed and swallowed up in Christ. O walls of Jericho! And all the streets To our Atlantic wall are singing: 'Sing, Sing for the resurrection of the King.' Flies, flies are on the plane tree, on the streets.