The Real Work
Poem by Wendell Berry
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Comments about The Real Work by Wendell Berry
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.