Thou, who dost know what way swift words are crossed
O thou, who hast sung till none at song defeat thee,
Grant! by thy might and hers of San Michele,
Thy risen voice send flames this pentecost.
Thou, who dost know what way swift words are crossed
O thou, who hast sung till none at song defeat thee,
Grant! by thy might and hers of San Michele,
Thy risen voice send flames this pentecost.
“The nation stirred in its husk and slept again. / Two slabs of bloody meat lay folded on its eyes like wings. / Like a hard glossy painting the nation slept. / Who can invent a new fear? / Yet I have invented sin, thought Isaiah, running his hand over the knobs. / And then because of a great attraction between them— / which Isaiah fought (for and against) for the rest of his life— God shattered Isaiah’s indifference. / God washed Isaiah’s hair in fire. / God took the stay. / From beneath its meat wings the nation listened. / You, said Isaiah. / No answer.”
Anne Carson | “Book of Isaiah”