Ezra Pound

(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

Ezra Pound Poems

241. To Whistler, American 4/1/2010
242. To-Em-Meps ‘the Unmoving Cloud' 4/1/2010
243. Translations And Adaptations From Heine 4/1/2010
244. Ts'Ai Chi'H 1/1/2004
245. Villanelle: The Psychological Hour 1/1/2004
246. Villonaud For This Yule 1/3/2003
247. Women Before A Shop 4/1/2010
248. Yeux Glauques 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Ezra Pound

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Read the full of A Girl

The Garrett

Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
      that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.

Dawn enters with little feet
      like a gilded Pavlova
And I am near my desire.

[Hata Bildir]