Lying in a Hammock at a Friend’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind Duffy’s empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken-hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
— James Wright
For me this poem is all about the last line, or more precise: what the meaning of the last line is in relation to everything that comes before.
Sometimes I think I prefer poetry in English because English isn’t my mother tongue, and thus my room for interpretation (& misinterpretation) is greater. But in the case of “Lying in a Hammock at a Friend’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota” it seems I’m not the only one rambling around in possible reinterpretations.
For good discussions on the matter you can have a look here: