Robert Bly is the author of many books of poetry and translation. His recent collection is Talking into the Ear of a Donkey (Norton). He lives in Minneapolis with his wife, Ruth.
Poetry
Spring 2013
Walking Running Crawling
From the Swedish. Walk among fallen trees a year after the storm. Wing-sound. Torn-up roots turned toward heaven, stretching out like skis on someone jumping. Thirsty wasps hum […]
Poetry
Summer 2000
The Wagon and the Cliff
The pin fails, and the wagon goes over the cliff. The doctor steps out a moment and the boy dies. We might question Emerson about this moment. Please don’t imagine […]
Poetry
Winter 1994
Thoughts in the Cabin
Why do I suddenly feel free of panic? Here a summer afternoon, wind-Blown lake, a cabin of strong logs. I can live and die with no more Fame; I’d like […]
Five Love Poems
Winter 1984
The Pillow
The bear in his heavy fur rises from the bed. The extravagant one he has left behind murmurs … Or is murmured … Words barely heard. Your face shines to […]
Five Love Poems
Winter 1984
The House
My father and I set up walls and roof. We set the joists, the floor plates, the two-by-fours, lifted the rafters on pulleys, roofed it. And his unsteady grief left […]
Five Love Poems
Winter 1984
Black Tree Trunks
I stand at the window, as the snow falls. It swirls around, almost blocking out the trees. The bark facing the storm goes entirely white. What faces us looks darker […]
Five Love Poems
Winter 1984
Ferns
It was among ferns I learned about eternity. Below your belly there is a curly place, ferns that hide deer, and I have learned to love the curve that the […]
Five Love Poems
Winter 1984
The Way He Turns
Once I loved you only a few minutes a day. Now it is smoke rising, the mushroom left by the birch, the horse’s forefoot, the way the minnow stirs silver […]
Nonfiction
Spring 1982
The Eight Stages of Translation
In this essay I will not deal with the theory of translation but I will try to answer the question: What is it like to translate a poem? We’ll look […]
Poetry
Spring 2013
To Friends behind a Border
From the Swedish. I I wrote sparsely to you. But everything I couldn't say swelled up like some old-fashioned hot air balloon and disappeared finally in the night sky. […]
Poetry
Spring 2013
C Major
From the Swedish. As he stepped out into the street after a meeting with her the snow whirled in the air. Winter had come while they were making love. […]
Poetry
Spring 2013
Sketch in October
From the Swedish. The tugboat is freckly with rust. What's it doing here, so far inland? It is a thick lamp, gone out in the cold. But the trees […]
Poetry
Spring 2013
Conflict
From the Swedish. After a political argument or wrangle, I become lonesome. An empty chair opens out into the night sky. There is no way back. My friend leaves […]