Sunday Poem

Things to Think by Robert Bly Think in ways you’ve never thought before. If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message Larger than anything you’ve ever heard, Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats. Think that someone may bring a bear to your door, Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a…

Sunday Poem (the air smelling like salamanders)

Wet Autumn by Tom Hennen Early morning, everything damp all through. Cars go by. A ripping sound of tires through water. For two days the air Has smelled like salamanders. The little lake on the edge of town hidden in fog, Its cattails and island gone. All through the gloom of the dark week Bright…

I have decided to blame no one for my life

Sunday is a good day for reading poetry, wouldn’t you agree? Sometimes poetry comes in the form of images, sometimes in words. Here is from the beginning of Sleeping Faces, by Robert Bly Tonight the first fall rain washes away my sly distance. I have decided to blame no one for my life. This water falls like a…

It’s the Dream

Writing poetry is difficult, translating poems are almost impossible – never are words so refined and difficult to render and interpret as in a simple poem. Here are two translation of a favorite poem of mine; Olav H. Hauge‘s Dream It’s the Dream Translated by Robin Fulton It’s the dream we carry in secret that…