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Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
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Copyright © 2003-2008 Gunnar Bengtsson, Poetry Connection. All Rights Reserved.
I am constantly touched at how she will stop at the hight of such a romantic poem to stop and speak to whoever her audience is. She sets up this charged emotional/romantic sensation and then as you sit, leaning forward into the poem because of your interest of its beauty...she almost stops, turns around, looks at you, and forces you on stage...and then you have to think about an answer for her. she does this in The Rabbit, I believe, only her audience is death. It's such a suprising thing to encounter in a poem.
Sika from United States