Friday, February 18, 2011
W.S. Merwin's The Shadow of Sirius
Like the saying, "old is gold", indeed W.S. Merwin's old head (New York City, September 30, 1927) contains some of the most delicate imageries and wisdom. It made me study his every unpunctuated line over simple words, to come away enlightened, on the edge of knowing fully his thoughts, and never gratified, always wanting more. Some of its best poems trapped me in each tiny capsule of emotions, before bursting into inexpressible light. The more I read, the more I think that the magic in each poem, or what makes them click, should remain as it is: unreachable, a secret.