In The Orchard Poem by Anne Stevenson
In The Orchard
Black bird, black voice,
almost the shadow of a voice,
so kind to this tired summer sky -
a rim of night around it -
almost an echo of today,
all the days since that first
soft guttural disaster
gave us 'apple' and 'tree'
and all that transpired thereafter
in the city of the tongue.
Blackbird, so old, so young, so
happy to be stricken with a song
you can never choose away from.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/5/2024 5:47:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
