April 16th, 2011

antiviolence, deadgirl, antiwar


To the Young Who Want to Die

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.
You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.

You need not die today.
Stay here--through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.

--Gwendolyn Brooks

NATIONAL POETRY MONTH: A Poem in Translation


Silence: hide yourself, conceal
your feelings and your dreams –
let them rise and set once more
in the abyss of your spirit,
silent, white stars in the night –
wonder at them – and be silent.

How can one’s own heart speak?
How can another know?
Will they see what you live by?
A thought once spoken is a lie:
troubling the streams, you cloud them –
drink from them – and be silent.

Know how to live deep inside –
there’s a universe in your mind
of mysterious thoughts, enchantments:
they’ll be drowned by World outside
they’ll be driven off by daylight –
hear them singing – and be silent! …
--Fëdor Tyútchev (1803-1873)