THE POEM THAT WAITS OUTSIDE THE WORDS
(After reading Cynthia Ozick’s criticism of Harold Bloom’s ‘Daemon Sublime’)
The poem that waits outside the words
And begins inside them
Is like all the mysteries
Unknowable in itself
The poem that waits outside the words
And has its own fierce energy
Cannot be reduced to a line- by- line sublime
Somewhere elsewhere
There is a Poetry
I cannot reach
And do not feel
Why God has given me
My own stunted lines
I do not know
Someone else will have to take you
To Eternity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A humbling one, Shalom, that might make you stop if you didn't believe or know it wouldn't be there if you did.