In this place of light: he dares to live
Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings
Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.
Tag: the-dying-man
Dolor
I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,
All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplicaton of lives and objects.
And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate gray standard faces.
I have gone into the waste lonely places
Theodore RoethkeSo much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying,
An intolerable waiting,
A longing for another place and time,
Another condition.
In a dark time, the eye begins to see / I meet my shadow in the deepening shade...Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
Theodore RoethkeWhat's madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
Theodore Roethkeسمعتُ ما قاله رجل يحتضر
لعائلته المحتشدة حوله،
" روحي معلقة في الخارج حتى تجف
مثل جلد طازجٍ مملّح
أشك في أنني سأستعملها ثانية
Tag: شعر-أمريكي
فوق خلجان الحلم
طار طائرٌ جبار
إلى البعيد وأبعد
إلى ظلمة غير مقمرة
عميقاً في الدماغ
إلى زمنٍ سحيق
Tag: شعر-أمريكي
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.
Tag: life
الرجل يرى وهو يحتضر
احتمالات الموت
قلبي يتأرجح مع العالم
وقد صرتُ ذلك الشيء الأخير
رجلٌ يتعلم الغناء
Tag: شعر-أمريكي
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