Blue Song Poem by Tennessee Williams
Blue Song
I am tired.
I am tired of speech and of action.
If you should meet me upon the
street do not question me for
I can tell you only my name
and the name of the town I was
born in–but that is enough.
It does not matter whether tomorrow
arrives anymore. If there is
only this night and after it is
morning it will not matter now.
I am tired. I am tired of speech
and of action. In the heart of me
you will find a tiny handful of
dust. Take it and blow it out
upon the wind. Let the wind have
it and it will find its way home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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12/8/2024 7:40:06 PM # 1.0.0
This may be the only poem I've ever enjoyed reading in The New Yorker. I found it freshman year of college, alone in my gray room, on a snowy afternoon. I tore it out, and taped it on my wall for many apartments and years to come. Then one day, I put it away in a box. On this dark February night, I remembered Blue Song, and how it speaks to my sadness.