by Stephen Crane
A man adrift on a slim spar
A horizon smaller than the rim of a bottle
Tented waves rearing lashy dark points
The near whine of froth in circles.
God is cold.
The incessant raise and swing of the sea
And growl after growl of crest
The sinkings, green, seething, endless
The upheaval half-completed.
God is cold.
The seas are in the hollow of The Hand;
Oceans may be turned to a spray
Raining down through the stars
Because of a gesture of pity toward a babe.
Oceans may become gray ashes,
Die with a long moan and a roar
Amid the tumult of the fishes
And the cries of the ships,
Because The Hand beckons the mice.
A horizon smaller than a doomed assassin's cap,
Inky, surging tumults
A reeling, drunken sky and no sky
A pale hand sliding from a polished spar.
God is cold.
The puff of a coat imprisoning air:
A face kissing the water-death
A weary slow sway of a lost hand
And the sea, the moving sea, the sea.
God is cold.
克萊恩詩歌的字裏行間透出悲觀宿命和面對蒼茫宇宙徒喚奈何的氣息。對於克萊恩而言，唯壹值得關註、並始終傾力關註的，不是宇宙萬物的冷酷無情或命運的不可抗拒，就是人的渺小和孤立無助。舍此而外，似乎再無其他可能。正如他所寫的，“上帝是冰冷的”（ God is cold），而人則“在小小的木筏上飄零”（ adrift on a slim spar）。