The Old Age of Nostalgia Poem by Mark Strand
The Old Age of Nostalgia
Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined
future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or
a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced
that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was
charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and
one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind-
loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the
high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so
many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies
in the perfumed heat of summer night.
Mark Strand, " Bătrâna vârstă a nostalgiei" -''The Old Age of Nostalgia'' [....] o, da, acele clipe, așa de multe și de-așa de multă vreme, încă se întorc, însă repede, ca licuricii în înmiresmata torpoare a nopții de vară. -traducere de Catalina Franco-
This is one of the best prose poems I have ever read. Being an old man, while reading this beautiful poem I thought this great poet is translating my heart. The greatness of a poet is this that his reader starts thinking as if he is writing this poem, if so, Mark Strand is really great. By the way I have read only one of his poems. what when I read more poems by him!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 5:36:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, those wonderful moments still come back.. tony