Tuesday, April 5, 2011

On Swimming by Adam Zagajewski

This was sent by our good friend Johanna who sells books to us and many other indie stores across the land. She lives in Louisville and I suppose she is busy shopping for a derby hat.

On Swimming

The rivers of this country are sweet
as a troubadour's song,
the heavy sun wander westward
on yellow circus wagons.
Little village churches
hold a fabric of silence so fine
and old that even a breath
could tear it.
I love to swim in the sea, which keeps
talking to itself
in the monotone of a vagabond
who no longer recalls
exactly how long he's been on the road.
Swimming is like prayer:
palms join and part,
join and part,
almost without end.

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