From An Atlas Of The Difficult World

A poem by Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012)

I know you are reading this poem

late, before leaving your office

of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window

in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet

long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem

standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean

on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven

across the plains’ enormous spaces around you.

I know you are reading this poem

in a room where too much has happened for you to bear

where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed

and the open valise speaks of flight

but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem

as the underground train loses momentum and before running

up the stairs

toward a new kind of love

your life has never allowed.

I know you are reading this poem by the light

of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide

while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.

I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room

of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.

I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light

in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,

count themselves out, at too early an age. I know

you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick

lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on

because even the alphabet is precious.

I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove

warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your

hand

because life is short and you too are thirsty.

I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language

guessing at some words while others keep you reading

and I want to know which words they are.

I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn

between bitterness and hope

turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.

I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else

left to read

there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works