PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Jen Schmitt on Ekphrasis Rachel Hadas on Text and Pandemic Kirsty Gunn Essaying two Jee Leong Koh Palinodes in the Voice of my Dead Father Maureen Mclane Correspondent Breeze
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 188, Volume 35 Number 6, July - August 2009.

Two Poems Catullus

65

Although I’m utterly drained by grief, Hortalus,
   distracted by despair from the know-all Virgins,
My mind’s eye birthing still more stillborns for the Muses,
   vision wobbly to a vanishing-point -
Not long since a wave rose on the full flood of Lethe
   to lap my brother’s death-white foot,
Snatched from my view, buried in a Trojan ditch,
   then crushed beneath the beach at Rhoetum
*
   sentenced never to gaze on your face? Who
I love more than life itself with a capital ‘L’,
   evermore sing sad songs for your dying,
Just as the Daulian pipes between bough and shades,
   mourning Itylus she laments murdering -
Still, in the face of such deep sorrow, Hortalus,
   I will mail you these fine lines of the son
Of Battus, so you’ll know your requests weren’t scattered
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image