Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility.
This definitive collection showcases thirty years of work by one of the most significant American poets of the twentieth century, bringing together verse that originally appeared in eight acclaimed books of poetry ranging from Hello: A Journal (1978) to Life & Death (1998) and If I were writing this (2003).
« Maudit soit le premier dont la verve insensée - Dans les bornes d'un vers renferma sa pensée, - Et, donnant à ses mots une étroite prison, - Voulut avec la rime enchaîner la raison.
« Comme dans les étangs assoupis sous les bois,Dans plus d'une âme on voit deux choses à la fois, Le ciel, qui teint les eaux à peine remuées Avec tous ses rayons et toutes ses nuées.
« Je fais souvent ce rêve étrange et pénétrantD'une femme inconnue, et que j'aime, et qui m'aime,Et qui n'est, chaque fois, ni tout à fait la même,Ni tout à fait une autre, et m'aime et me comprend.
« Le poète est penché sur les berceaux qui tremblent; Il leur parle, il leur dit tout bas de tendres choses, Il est leur amoureux, et ses chansons ressemblent Aux roses.