Portrait of Russell Libby by Robert Shetterly, from his
Americans Who Tell The Truth collection.
This morning, it comes: a dull, heavy blow that Russell Libby has died. I'm having a hard time expressing the admiration I had for this man and poet, so I'll let his words stand in stead.
Just as the Inuit have many words for snow,
in some forgotten language
there is a word for the sound of the south wind
as it pushes across the tops of the ashes
and catches in the pine trees just beyond.
The poem comes from his wonderful chapbook, Moments. More from the book and on Russell may be found here.
--------------------------
mountain temple--
deep under snow
a bell
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
Don
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6 comments:
What a rough year for poets. Sorry to hear this.
What a beautiful poem, I love those lines:
'there is a word for the sound of the south wind
as it pushes across the tops of the ashes
and catches in the pine trees just beyond'
May he rest in peace. Rachael Stanley
So sad. I went back to read your post from May, last year. What a heart, soul this poet had.
Mary Ahearn
Thank you, Charles.
Yes, Rachael, Russell captures it perfectly. Look for another post on him tomorrow. He is much on my mind.
Don
Mary ... thanks. More on Russell tomorrow.
Don
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