i
I shall not hold
what once was
yesterday
gold
a poem
doesn't grow
lovely as a tree
in Tennessee
ii
He ran away
before he was three
through underbrush and weeds
to Ebenezer
and kept on running
a way from Them
from convention
from submission
by indirection
(insurrection
only more subtle)
to find
direction out
and him Self.
iii
'Tis better
(mark my words)
when you are old and gray
you shall say
to have loved
mindlessly
and hopelessly
and lost
(despair)
then to wait
till at last
you should find
love that was
your first
iv
Under the spreading
(it was an oak really,
a shingle oak)
chestnut tree:
gone, now
gone
lichens and bolls
festered
its leaves fell
all year
detritus;
what is left
is the spreading sky
and claritatis
v
songs are words
only words
and the air
they're sung to
wind
that blows
unless
you can keep your head
and thread
your way past the pompous
and silver your senses
when all about you
and in your mind
are losing theirs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem