Stephen Crane
史蒂芬·克萊恩
Στέφεν Κρέιν
Stephen Crane (Autor)
Стівен Крейн
Крейн, Стивен
スティーヴン・クレイン
ستيفن كرين
스티븐 크레인
ލިޔުންތެރިއެއް
US-amerikanischer Schriftsteller
scrittore e giornalista statunitense
Usana skriptisto, jurnalisto e poeto
amerykański pisarz
Nobelista, poeta ampong periodista
USA lahabali sabira ni lahabali tira
escritor, jornalista e poeta norte-americano
escritor, xornalista e poeta estadounidense
एक अमेरिकी कबी, उपन्यासकार और लघु कथा लेखक।
بازیکن بیسبال، ژورنالیست، نویسنده، و شاعر آمریکایی
écrivain, poète et journaliste américain
Amerikaans schrijver (1871–1900)
একজন আমেরিকান কবি, উপন্যাসিক ও ছোট গল্পের লেখক।
eskritor merikano
americký spisovatel
escritor y periodista estadounidense
アメリカ合衆国の作家、詩人
ամերիկացի բանաստեղծ, արձակագիր, լրագրող
escriptor i periodista estatunidenc
משורר, עיתונאי וסופר אמריקאי (1871 – 1900).
American novelist, short story writer, poet, and journalist
американский поэт, прозаик и журналист
شاعر أمريكي
Newark, New Jersey, U.S.
Badenweiler, Grand Duchy of Baden, German Empire
speech
Formal portrait of Stephen Crane, about March 1896
Writer
— Stephen Crane
— Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage
— Stephen Crane, account of the JOUAM parade as it appeared in the Tribune
— Stephen Crane, "The Open Boat"
When I Knew Stephen Crane by Willa Cather, read by Martin Reyto for LibriVox's Short Nonfiction Collection Vol.031.ogg
right
A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army's feet; and at night, when the stream had become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills.
Such an assemblage of the spraddle-legged men of the middle class, whose hands were bent and shoulders stooped from delving and constructing, had never appeared to an Asbury Park summer crowd, and the latter was vaguely amused.
None of them knew the color of the sky. Their eyes glanced level and were fastened upon the waves that swept toward them. These waves were of the hue of slate, save for the tops, which were of foaming white, and all of the men knew the colors of the sea.
Many red devils ran from my heart And out upon the page. They were so tiny The pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange To write in this red muck Of things from my heart.