<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535756" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Robinson At Home</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Curtains drawn back, the door ajar. <br>All winter long, it seemed, a darkening <br>Began. But now the moonlight and the odors of the street <br>Conspire and combine toward one community. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>These are the rooms of Robinson. <br>Bleached, wan, and colorless this light, as though <br>All the blurred daybreaks of the spring <br>Found an asylum here, perhaps for Robinson alone, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Who sleeps. Were there more music sifted through the floors <br>And moonlight of a different kind, <br>He might awake to hear the news at ten, <br>Which will be shocking, moderately. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This sleep is from exhaustion, but his old desire <br>To die like this has known a lessening. <br>Now there is only this coldness that he has to wear. <br>But not in sleep.—Observant scholar, traveller, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Or uncouth bearded figure squatting in a cave, <br>A keen-eyed sniper on the barricades, <br>A heretic in catacombs, a famed roué, <br>A beggar on the streets, the confidant of Popes— </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>All these are Robinson in sleep, who mumbles as he turns, <br>“There is something in this madhouse that I symbolize— <br>This city—nightmare—black—” <br>He wakes in sweat <br>To the terrible moonlight and what might be <br>Silence. It drones like wires far beyond the roofs, <br>And the long curtains blow into the room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Weldon+Kees">Weldon Kees</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535756" data-title="Robinson At Home de Weldon Kees" data-description="Curtains drawn back, the door ajar. All winter long, it seemed, a darkening Began. But now the moonlight and the odors of the street Conspire and combine toward one community. These are the rooms of Robinson. Bleached, wan, and colorless th..."></div> </div> </div>

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