Tag Archives: poems we love

but there was a light inside her: Dybek’s “Infrared”

26 Jan

redknuckles

 

She tried to hide

in darkness like unexposed film,

but there was light inside her,

red shapes of heat she couldn’t smother,

bones glowing, beginning to crumble

like Marie Curie’s.

 

from Stuart Dybek’s “Infrared,” in the wonderful Brass Knuckles

from Amichai’s “Too Many”: Too many clocks,/ too little time.

23 Jan

gate

Too much weariness, too few eyes

to contain it. Too many clocks,

too little time. Too many oaths

on the Bible, too many highways, too few

ways where we can truly go: each to his destiny.

Too many hopes

that ran away from their masters.

Too many dreamers. Too few dreams

whose interpretation would change the history of the world

like Pharoah’s dreams.

 

My life closes behind me. And I am outside, a dog

for the cruel, blind wind that always

pushes at my back. I am well trained: I rise and sit

and wait to lead it through the streets

of my life, which could have been my true life.

 

Yehuda Amichai, Poems, 1948-1962

Trans. Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell

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