4 Poems About Summer's End
When I started blogging — about three blogs ago now — and well, these were different times, but I had a rule for myself that I wouldn’t quote from anything that I hadn’t read in its entirety. This is a pretty sound practice in general, still though, right? I don’t stick to it one hundred percent, but I do like to sit and sift through my beloved books and then actually type out the quotations or poems. It’s a way of inhabiting, for one thing. Learning. I think the practice has also made me a better writer, having done this for so many years. People who do this more religiously call the practice, “copywork.” It hearkens back to the days of the commonplace book. In a volume I love, Index Cards, by Moyra Davey, she resolves herself to: “Refrain from quoting authors I’ve only read secondhand.”
And so that was a bit of a tangent, and maybe just a way of saying that there may be typos ahead, haha, but below you will find 4 poems that sort of fell into my hands as I perused some poetry from my home library this morning. Rather perfect for the first day of September. I hope you enjoy them! They’re about looking back at the huge and sudden summer, that land of green, and taking stock. It’s fitting also, to end up on the couch, or in my case the chaise longue, which is where I’m headed after writing this post, to just revel and remember and daydream a little about all that has happened and all that I loved.
1. Autumn Day by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the
evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
—There are multiple other translations of this poem. The above is by Stephen Mitchell. More here.
2. Suddenly, Summer by Alex Dimitrov
There were days I didn’t go out
and days I couldn’t remember.
Sometimes I sat at my desk
watching the trees outside blooming,
as if we had nothing in common.
They had the sun,
I had the sun through a window.
They were beginning,
I was unsure what I was.
Then one afternoon
after an early drink
I decided to get them —
alive and understated,
aware they were not
the most beautiful flowers
yet reassuringly strong.
I don’t know how they gave
the illusion of order.
One that was impossible to find
talking to friends, lovers, old colleagues;
they did not talk back. The tulips.
They merely filled the room,
their purpose being to be loved
for what they were, entirely
by how I saw them. No struggle
or epiphany. No work.
And so I did. I loved them.
I was envious I could not be them.
Simple and so sudden. In a vase.
– from Love and Other Poems which I highly recommend
3. Late Summer by Anna Kamienska
I’ll lock myself now
in a cell of prickly hay
to think through all from the beginning
A leaf a root an ant a hare
the sea a cloud a rock
I’ll think about them
as a sinner thinks
about his sins
I’ll ask myself
whether I regret very much
not belonging to a land of green
I’ll question how many times
I didn’t ask roots which way to go
I’ll repent before water a cloud
a birch-tree
I’ll wash their feet
and dress their wounds
Why can’t I be reconciled
to green rustling life
and sleep among mortal dreams
Leaf
teach me to fall
on the indifferent earth
— translated by Grazing Drabik and David Curzon
4. untitled by Patrizia Cavalli
We’re all going to hell in a while.
But meanwhile
summer’s over.
So come on now, to the couch!
The couch! The Couch!
— translated by Gini Alhadeff