Category Archives: Poetry

“Nocturne” by Octavio Paz

Octavio Paz, “Nocturne”, translated by Eliot Weinberger “Shadow, flickering shadow of voices. The black river drags its sunken marbles. How to speak of the assassinated air, of the orphaned words, how to speak of the dream? Shadow, flickering shadow of … Continue reading

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“The Message of Mr Cogito” by Zbigniew Herbert

“Go where those others went to the dark boundary for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize go upright among those who are on their knees among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust you … Continue reading

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“Alchemy” by Gillian Clarke

“All night the moon stares at the stream strumming its way over stones, stopping it dead in its dream; gazes at the field’s ghost where all the white night long no mouse, fox, hare has passed.   Moon, witch, goddess, … Continue reading

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“Happiness” by Louise Glück 

Georgia O’Keeffe, “Abstraction White Rose” “A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase of lilies; sunlight pools in their throats. I watch … Continue reading

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“Alchemy” by Jane Yeh

If it could be done, I’d do it In an instant. I’ve got the charts, The mortar and pestle, the fullest Array of flasks that side of Rome. My walls are papered with symbols, and the biggest Is gold. There’s … Continue reading

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“Perfect Woman” by William Wordsworth

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her … Continue reading

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Two Poems by Yehuda Amichai

I. “A Man in His Life” “A man doesn’t have time in his life to have time for everything. He doesn’t have seasons enough to have a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes was wrong about that. A man needs to love … Continue reading

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“Desire” by Boleslaw Lesmian

“I’d like to have a hut in the wild forest density, Made of firewood and a spatial scarcity, Hanged high among old branch pinions, Over jaguar caves and snake canyons. There, on moss, swung with a mad storm, I’d like … Continue reading

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“From love’s first fever to her plague” by Dylan Thomas: A Study of Consciousness

“From love’s first fever to her plague, from the soft second And to the hollow minute of the womb, From the unfolding to the scissored caul, The time for breast and the green apron age When no mouth stirred about … Continue reading

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“The Canticle of the Void” by Paul Murray

“Smaller than the small I am that still centre within you that needle’s eye through which all the threads of the universe are drawn. Perhaps you think you know me but you do not know me. Of everything that is, … Continue reading

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