Gift poem – Alice Notley

Nothing will hurt you that much despite how you feel

the stress on your back shapes your insight

this splendid November rain Toussaint. I find

you by your marks, he says

an imprint

But when I summon you, I talk to—I say—

my memory of your face. It’s kind of crazy

to others. They’re not very interesting he says.

When I first came to this country, and now

I know the language I say, but I had in a dream

spoken it many years previously. That is,

not the language of the dead the language

of France. I took one year of French in 1964

and then nothing but once, in 1977 I spoke French

in a dream all night: I was in the future I

moved here in 1992. Country of the more

logical than I? though the people of my quartier

know and like me, even as I a foreigner remain strange

You do everything alone a woman said to me.

There are ways to care without interfering

but the French speak of anguish frequently

they are conscious of emotional extremity

a terrible gift. It’s all a gift, he says . . .

some haven’t been opened. I’m not sure

he said that it’s nearly my sixty-seventh birthday

today though it’s the day of the dead hello

we love you they say.

Copyright ©: 
Alice Notley

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Poems in English 

• Upon The Sight Of A Beautiful Picture Painted By Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To The Small Celandine by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To The Poet, John Dyer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Sleep by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Joanna by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To A Young Lady Who Had Been Reproached For Taking Long Walks In The Country by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To a Sky-Lark by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• ‘Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Vaudois by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Two Thieves; Or, The Last Stage Of Avarice by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Two April Mornings by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Thorn by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Sun Has Long Been Set by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature’s Hand by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Sparrow’s Nest by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Simplon Pass by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Shepherd, Looking Eastward, Softly Said by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

More external links (open in a new tab):

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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.

 

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