Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Hal Coase 'Ochre Pitch' Gregory Woods 'On Queerness' Kirsty Gunn 'On Risk! Carl Phillips' Galina Rymbu 'What I Haven't Written' translated by Sasha Dugdale Gabriel Josipovici 'No More Stories' Valerie Duff-Strautmann 'Anne Carson's Wrong Norma'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 110, Volume 22 Number 6, July - August 1996.

Poems Harvey Shapiro

Travelling through Ireland

Sitting beside a sign
pointing to Cork and Limerick
or in Irish Corcaigh
and Luimneach,
I am persuaded again
of my foreignness in this world,
and that none of the signs I read
points to happiness. And
many I can't make out.
Though this world is the only world
it is composed of infinite worlds.
In one of them, I take
my rightful place.

On the streets of Donegal
little Irish women
chirping like sparrows

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image