Epithalamion Poems
Epithalamium
by Louise Gluck
There were others; their bodies
were a preparation.
I have come to see it as that.
As a steam of cries.
So much pain in the world - the formless
grief of the body, whose language
is hunger-
And in the hall, the boxed roses:
......
Epithalamium
by Pablo Neruda
Do you remember when
in winter
we reached the island?
The sea raised toward us
a crown of cold.
On the walls the climbing vines
murmured letting
dark leaves fall
as we passed.
You too were a little leaf
......
Epithalamion
by Dannie Abse
Singing, today I married my white girl
beautiful in a barley field.
Green on thy finger a grass blade curled,
so with this ring I thee wed, I thee wed,
and send our love to the loveless world
of all the living and all the dead.
Now, no more than vulnerable human,
we, more than one, less than two,
are nearly ourselves in a barley field -
......
Epithalamium
by Adam Zagajewski
Without silence there would be no music.
Life paired is doubtless more difficult
than solitary existence -
just as a boat on the open sea
with outstretched sails is trickier to steer
than the same boat drowsing at a dock, but schooners
after all are meant for wind and motion,
not idleness and impassive quiet.
A conversation continued through the years includes
......
Epithalamium
by Adam Zagajewski
Without silence there would be no music.
Life paired is doubtless more difficult
than solitary existence -
just as a boat on the open sea
with outstretched sails is trickier to steer
than the same boat drowsing at a dock, but schooners
after all are meant for wind and motion,
not idleness and impassive quiet.
A conversation continued through the years includes
......
Epithalamium
by Pablo Neruda
Do you remember when
in winter
we reached the island?
The sea raised toward us
a crown of cold.
On the walls the climbing vines
murmured letting
dark leaves fall
as we passed.
You too were a little leaf
......
Epithalamium
by Louise Gluck
There were others; their bodies
were a preparation.
I have come to see it as that.
As a steam of cries.
So much pain in the world - the formless
grief of the body, whose language
is hunger-
And in the hall, the boxed roses:
......
Epithalamion
by Dannie Abse
Singing, today I married my white girl
beautiful in a barley field.
Green on thy finger a grass blade curled,
so with this ring I thee wed, I thee wed,
and send our love to the loveless world
of all the living and all the dead.
Now, no more than vulnerable human,
we, more than one, less than two,
are nearly ourselves in a barley field -
......
