Immortality #AustralianPoetry

Into all sights of lonely grandeur the soul

Shall pass; into infinity of sea and sky;

Into forsaken spaces wide and bare;

And shall be scattered over the starry whole.

And lost in the voices of winds crying by;

In waving grass and trees that rustle in air.

– Roland Robinson (1912–1992)

 

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  1. cabrogal says:

    Gee, I never even heard of this guy before, even though he lived just down the road from me (according to Wikipedia). In fact, other than a handful of Victorian era Christians, I was under the impression that mystical poetry never took root in the wide, brown land.

  2. cabrogal says:

    Oops. When I dismissed Aussie mystic poetry I was forgetting someone.

    The Lost Man by Judith Wright

    To reach the pool you must go through the rain-forest –
    through the bewildering midsummer of darkness
    lit with ancient fern,
    laced with poison and thorn.
    You must go by the way he went – the way of the bleeding
    hands and feet, the blood on the stones like flowers,
    under the hooded flowers
    that fall on the stones like blood.

    To reach the pool you must go by the black valley
    among the crowded columns made of silence,
    under the hanging clouds
    of leaves and voiceless birds.
    To go by the way he went to the voice of the water,
    where the priest stinging-tree waits with his whips and fevers
    under the hooded flowers
    that fall from the trees like blood,

    you must forget the song of the gold bird dancing
    over tossed light; you must remember nothing
    except the drag of darkness
    that draws your weakness under.
    To go by the way he went, you must find beneath you
    that last and faceless pool, and fall. And falling
    find between breath and death
    the sun by which you live.

  3. Thats amazing. Beautiful symbolism.

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