WS Merwin just came out with a new book of poetry. He's 81, he lives in Hawaii, he has a gentle voice and he isn't scared of dying. What strikes me about his work is the brilliant balance and sensitivity to nature and the human emotion. These are two themes that seem potent during the "holiday season"—the dramatic weather and the changes it goes through from short days to longer ones, from colored leaves to white snow and the plethora of human emotions that come up during this time of family gatherings and suspended hopes. Here are a couple poems by Merwin and here is a review of his new book.
ANY TIME
How long ago the day is
when at last I look at it
with the time it has taken
to be there still in it
now in the transparent light
with the flight in the voices
the beginning in the leaves
everything I remember
and before it before me
present at the speed of light
in the distance that I am
who keep reaching out to it
seeing all the time faster
where it has never stirred from
before there is anything
the darkness thinking the lightLANGUAGE
Certain words now in our knowledge we will not use again, and we will never forget them. We need them. Like the back of the picture. Like our marrow, and the color in our veins. We shine the lantern of our sleep on them, to make sure, and there they are, trembling already for the day of witness. They will be buried with us and rise with the rest.
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