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(September 30, 1927 / New York / United States)

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Air

Naturally it is night.
Under the overturned lute with its
One string I am going my way
Which has a strange sound.

This way the dust, that way the dust.
I listen to both sides
But I keep right on.
I remember the leaves sitting in judgment
And then winter.

I remember the rain with its bundle of roads.
The rain taking all its roads.
Nowhere.

Young as I am, old as I am,

I forget tomorrow, the blind man.
I forget the life among the buried windows.
The eyes in the curtains.
The wall
Growing through the immortelles.
I forget silence
The owner of the smile.

This must be what I wanted to be doing,
Walking at night between the two deserts,
Singing.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: remember, rain, winter, silence, smile, night, life

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Comments about this poem (It Is March by William Stanley Merwin )

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  • Karen Sinclair (12/4/2012 7:52:00 PM)

    Oh deary me... i adore this..... i really felt so much

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Zoe Smith (6/13/2006 4:16:00 AM)

    I love the ending, the music rises through the entire piece. Beautiful like Chopin notes everywhere.

  • Robert Bergren (4/17/2006 11:00:00 PM)

    tell me how to make this magic

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