W. S. Merwin, a formidable American poet who for more than 60 years labored under a formidable poetic yoke: the imperative of using language — an inescapably concrete presence on the printed page — to conjure absence, silence and nothingness, died on Friday…He was 91.
“It is as though the voice filters up to the reader like echoes from a very deep well, and yet it strikes his ear with a raw energy,” the poet and critic Laurence Lieberman wrote… He added: “The poems must be read very slowly, since most of their uncanny power is hidden in overtones that must be listened for in silences between lines, and still stranger silences within lines.”
W.S. Merwin, “Black Cherries”:
Late in May as the light lengthens
toward summer the young goldfinches
flutter down through the day for the first time
to find themselves among fallen petals
cradling their day’s colors in the day’s shadows
of the garden beside the old house
after a cold spring with no rain
not a sound comes from the empty village
as I stand eating the black cherries
from the loaded branches above me
saying to myself Remember this
W.S. Merwin, from “To Paula in Late Spring”:
Let me imagine that we will come again
when we want to and it will be spring
we will be no older than we ever were
the worn griefs will have eased like the early cloud
through which the morning slowly comes to itself…
the light will be as it is now in the garden
that we have made here these years together
of our long evenings and astonishment
~ Margalit Fox, from “W.S. Merwin, Poet of Life’s Evanescence, Dies at 91″ (NY Times, March 15, 2019)
Notes:
- W.S. Merwin Photo by Nancy Carrick Holbert 01/14/1969
- W.S. Merwin biography
- The Atlantic Monthly: “The intentions of Merwin’s poetry are as broad as the biosphere yet as intimate as a whisper. He conveys in the sweet simplicity of grounded language a sense of the self where it belongs, floating between heaven, earth, and the underground.”
‘…cradling their day’s colors…’ such a visual!
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I think it is in Virginia, that place
That lies across the eye of my mind now
Like a gray blade set to the moon’s roundness,
Like a plain of glass touching all there is. …
My father never plowed there, nor my mother …
But you would think the fields were something
To me, so long I stare out, looking
For their shapes or shadows through the matted gleam, seeing
Neither what is nor what was, but the flat light rising.
~ W.S. Merwin, from “Low Fields and Light” which appeared in the New Yorker on November 5, 1955 (via The Washington Post, March 15, 2019)
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Takes my breath away.
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I didn’t know he was still alive. Love his poetry!
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no roots are mine
that wherever I go I will be a spine of smoke in the forest
and the forest will know it
we will both know it.
~ W.S. Merwin, from “Now it is Clear” in The Second Four Book of Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 1970)
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No punctuation. I just read that he uses no punctuation!
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You don’t either as translator. What’s the difference? (Except you didn’t win Pulitzer and should have)
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When I translate I punctuate. When I write I don’t. Because I’d rather not use it than use it wrong. And it leaves room for multiple meanings.
You caught me off guard with your reply!!!
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Laughing!
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I got my Pulitzer today!
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Wow. See. If you put your mind to it, anything is possible!
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Beautiful poems and yes so much rhythm and imaginative words of reality. Awesome.
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Yes. Exactly.
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Yes.
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these are beautiful and i hadn’t heard of him before. thank you for sharing this. my favorite line: “saying to myself Remember this.”
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Yes. I was frozen in the moment of reading that.
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Such a beautiful way to start the day, DK. Thanks.
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Thank you Roseanne. It is!
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Was introduced to Merwin as a freshman in college and have been under his spell ever since.
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And I never was so lucky, so he arrived later in life, but impact was the same.
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Being the big Ignorant here, first thing I did was doing a YT search. Found this wonderful time document:
(hope it comes out alright, I’m not a tech wizzard)……
The intentions of Merwin’s poetry are as broad as the biosphere yet as intimate as a whisper. This sentence ….. and the one Rosanne ment. too….
His voice, really something to behold! Thank You. You enriched my day with this post.
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Here Kiki. Let me help. And thank you for sharing.
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???? That’s the very same as mine, INCLUDING the very large scale of video…. ! 😉
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Laughing.
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David sure got you on this one, Kiki! Such a trickster! I must admit that I am with Kiki on this one, as I hadn’t been exposed to Merwin until now, so thanks to both of you for the enlightenment of this big ignorant as well! I don’t think I’ll attach a video though …
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Smiling.
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My morning is more still. The silence deeper. The sunrise yet to come more promising.
Thank you for colouring my morning with his beautiful poetry.
I am grateful his words remain behind.
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Yes. Louise. Yes. And your thought on silence trigger recollection of Yeats.
We can make our minds so like still water
that beings gather about us that they may see, it may be, their own images,
and so live for a moment with a clearer,
perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet.
~ W.B. Yeats, “Earth, Fire and Water” in The Celtic Twilight (SMK Books, April 3, 2018)
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David, you ARE a wizzard! How could you reply to Louise SO quickly and with such a poignant trigger point to Yeats?! You are beyond me…..
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Laughing. That Yeats passage was lingering.
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Ahh… Yeat’s Irish soul will be stirring in your laughter!
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This usually happens on the weekends when you post-a-post so phenomenal yet emotionally charged with being-me-to-my-knees words that quiet cadenced sobs and tears flow like unpunctuated sentences.
It’s Tuesday morning, Dave.
Well done.
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Awwww. Thank you Raye.
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Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
#Sad … good ones!! … ‘W. S. Merwin, a formidable American poet who for more than 60 years labored under a formidable poetic yoke: the imperative of using language – an inescapably concrete presence on the printed page – to conjure absence, silence and nothingness, died on Friday…He was 91.’
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Beautiful images.
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They are.
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**big, comfortable, romantic, envious sigh***
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Exactly.
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i took his death hard….another light extinguished….
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He sure was a light…
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Thanks
W. S. Merwin, 1927 – 2019
Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is
From Migration: New & Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2005). Copyright © 1988 by W. S. Merwin. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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Amazing. Thank you for sharing.
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