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Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.
A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.
Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.
So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.
Seamus Heaney
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Read poems about / on: hunting, running, hate, river, sky, heart, swimming, water
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Comments about this poem (Twice Shy
by
Seamus Heaney
) |
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comments about this poem (Twice Shy by
Seamus Heaney
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Bloom Léopold
(1/19/2005 4:23:00 PM) |
I like the atmosfear of this poem, in french we could say it's 'très rive gauche', I mean, there are intelligence, freedom and a kind of 'absurdity' (as Albert Camus said) in this poem.
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Seamus Heaney
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