Thursday, May 3, 2007

Jane Hirshfield

:Thought I'll share this beautifully written poem by Jane Hirshfield.

THE POET

She is working now, in a room
not unlike this one,
the one where I write, or you read.
Her table is covered with paper.
The light of the lamp would be
tempered by a shade, where the bulb's
single harshness might dissolve,
but it is not, she has taken it off.
Her poems? I will never know them,
though they are the ones I most need.
Even the alphabet she writes in
I cannot decipher. Her chair -
Let us imagine whether it is leather
or canvas, vinyl or wicker. Let her
have a chair, her shadeless lamp,
the table. Let one or two she loves
be in the next room. Let the door
be closed, the sleeping ones healthy.
Let her have time, and silence,
enough paper to make mistakes and go on.

5 comments:

Cansei de ser abduzida said...

So cool... I love it!
Cheers from Brazil!

Anonymous said...

well well,
it's been ages,
since when have you become so poetic?!

how are things with you?.

Joshua ONG here...

Christina Kam said...

Yoyo...Pek Yin here...hows life?? its been so long since i see u leh....

Christina Kam said...

Bahaha...added u in msn ady...shall chat with u soon yea..muakZ..:)

Jade Z. said...

oi aunty! still rmbr me? called u twice before never answer wan? ):
quick update ur blog ler~ wanna know more of how u're doin there!!! *cheers from OZ* ^^