held dear in the mind as it listens,
I would repeat it over and over
and know all that you seek—
Nothing is needed by the dead,
Not home, not clothing, not ears to listen.
They need nothing from us.
Nothing—except the wide, wide world.
7
All along the road, along the dusty road
I was walking and mourning, filled with grief—
you must know what it is to grieve. Do you?
When a stone shall swim as a fish,
then, I say, shall my soul
feel life and forgiveness.
The stone sails along like a boat,
blown by favorable winds,
righting its small gold sail,
its bright nettle-like wings,
its gold oars just barely glimpsed
in the distant, noisy sea.
And what was, will not be.
What will be is best of all.
8
Invisible flame, burn!
I need nothing else, only you.
All else will be taken from me.
If not taken, then I’ll be asked to yield it.
If not asked, then I will cast it off,
out of boredom, and out of fear.
Like the star that gazes on the cradle,
or the watchhouse deep in the thicket,
swinging on the blackened chains,
burn, invisible flame, burn!
You are an icon lamp, oiled by tears,
by the doubt in a cruel heart,
by the smile of one who turns to leave.
So, burn, and pass along the news
to the Savior, to God in His Heavens,
that on earth He is remembered,
that He is still not forgotten.
9
(A Prayer)
Bring warmth, O Lord, to your Beloved flock—
the orphans, the infirm, the dispossessed.
For the one who can do nothing,
do all that he is bidden to do.
And for the dead, O Lord, the dead—
let their sins catch fire like straw,
let the sins burn and leave no trace
in the grave or the lofty heavens.
You are the Lord of all miracles and promises.
Let all that is not miracle burn away.
1982
POEMS ADDED TO “OLD SONGS”
DEDICATION
Remember, I say, remember,
remember, I say as I cry:
all will forsake, all will change,
and hope itself dies away.
The ocean does not fall into the river;
the river does not return to its source;
time has spared no one—
but I love you, I love you as if
all this were true, and yet may be.
Adam wept but was not forgiven.
And he was not allowed to return
to the only place where we are alive:
“If you want what is yours, you shall have it.
So what will you, you who are in that place
where the heart seeks as if God almighty:
where the heart is all radiance and offering.”
The cold of the world—
someone will warm.
The deadened sun—
someone will raise.
These miracles—
someone will take by the hand,
like a naughty child, and say:
“Come, I will show you something
that you have never seen!”
1990-1992
TRISTAN AND ISOLDE
(Translated by Ksenia Golubovich & Caroline Clark)
FIRST INTRODUCTION
Pray listen, my good people,
to a story of love and death,
listen whoever wants to,
for it’s within our every breath.
For the begging heart sends up such thanks
as if for its daily bread
when someone is lost,
when someone is dead,
or just as alone as we.
Let’s sew a dress of darkness,
a monk’s cloak of old,
let’s ask for water from the well
and the northern winter’s cold—
a winter lovely as topaz
though with a crack inside.
Like white topaz held to the eye,
when we lean to look outside
and into the streetlamp’s light.
Fate alone is like fate
and unlike anything else:
not like the far distant sail,
not like a shield, a horn, or the Grail,
or whatever waits by the gate.
And those who know this are not sad
that light will go away like snow.
My soul, be whatever you want,
but be merciful too:
for here we come with life’s knapsack,
lingering by the exit:
and I see that all fear the road.
Yet you will like them, those two,
who occupy my word.
We may have lived long ago, yet
like water hollowing the riverbed
when we speak it is always to say:
Pray listen to the living!
So when I start my speech, it seems
I