In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.
All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.
Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.
In this poem, Wright captures quite effectively our culture and our times. The first stanza, perhaps not politically correct, captures the reality of working-class America. The next two bring it home: the parents' generation having lost their dreams and ideals, their sons working out their frustration in gritty, elaborate, but artificial ways. Somehow this explains the incredible popularity of high-school football and the unfortunate ugliness of the football culture one hears about in the news these days. It takes courage to describe the sport as suicidally beautiful and galloping terribly against each other's bodies, but those are accurate, perceptive phrases.
i wonder how this poems became modern poem of the day. it isn't politically correct to standard of modern times...or i'm missing something.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
At the football stadium, he thinks of other things- Poles who drink, negroes who work in a blast furnace-which makes the football match seem trivial. The sons of the spectator fathers 'grow suicidally beautiful'... 'And gallop terribly against each other's bodies'. Original, notable imagery.