Where My Books Go Poem by William Butler Yeats
Where My Books Go
All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright.
in ITALIAN: ~*~ Tutte le parole che pronuncio, tutte le parole che scrivo, devono aprire instancabili le ali, e non fermarsi mai nel loro volo, fino a raggiungere il tuo triste, triste cuore, e cantare per te nella notte, oltre il luogo ove muovono le acque, oscure di tempesta o lucenti di stelle. William Butler Yeats, Dove vanno i miei libri (1892) ~*~
I've been reading Yeats for 30 years, but can't remember reading this. Beautiful.
All the words that I utter, And all the words that I write, Must spread out their wings untiring, And never rest in their flight, love this :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 8:57:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
''... it is William Butler Yeats’ declaration of the personal drive that leads him to literary inspiration. A mere eight lines long, the poem widely differs from many of his other poems− it is short, it is void of complex references, and is distinctly removed from layered diction usually prevalent in Yeats’ poetry. It is his literary impetus, the gist of his creative motivation. The poem is a statement of purpose, the revelation of his personal and profession mission. ... '' [from an analysis by Matthew Adams ]