What's A Girl To Do? Poem by Patti Masterman
What's A Girl To Do?
And now, I find that I am in love with Yeats;
But was never fit to even touch his sole-
Let alone his SOUL.
I can love his words, though surely his moldering suit
Has already collapsed into itself, and been eaten
By tiny creatures possessing no sense of poetics.
I can know what ideas occupied him,
For an hour or a day, so long ago.
The past is it's own time machine, intrepid lover!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 8:00:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
If Yeats had any soul at all he’d reply to this love letter for certain... of course, as a ghost writer!