Poem by Wallace Stevens

Another Weeping Woman

Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.

Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.

The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world

Leaves you
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.

1. Phases
2. Anecdote of the Prince of Peacocks
3. The Comedian as the Letter C
4. Two Figures in Dense Violet Light
5. It Must Give Pleasure

Print

1630 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version