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Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 40, Volume 11 Number 2, November - December 1984.

Translating Hafez Dick Davis

North West Frontier, 1880s

I see the man I conjure - at a doorway
Bathed for a moment in the evening light
             And watching as the sun
             Descends behind bare hills

Whose shadow blurs, and renders substanceless,
Parade-ground, barrack, flag-pole - the low step
             On which he stands: 'The hour
             Of cow-dust', but no herds

Are brought in here to shelter from the dark:
The bright, baroque commotion of the sky
             Is simplified to dusk
             In which the first stars shine

Like an admonishment that stills the heart.
He enters the dark house: though he is here
             By accident he makes
...


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