Skip to content

Rambling At The Bridge Head

Russian and Welsh poetry etc.

Recent Posts

  • Ах, трубы медные гремят… (Military Parade) by Bulat Okudzhava
  • Pavane by R. S. Thomas
  • Урал впервые (The Urals For The First Time) by Boris Pasternak
  • A Problem for the Father of the Family by Franz Kafka
  • On The Farm by R. S. Thomas

Categories

Archives

Top Posts & Pages

  • Nicholas Was... by Neil Gaiman
  • Молчание (Silentium) by Fyodor Tyutchev
  • Tesco Collection: Dark Chocolate Stem Ginger
  • Pity The Nation by Kahlil Gibran
  • Walk Around The Wales Coastal Path
  • Old Women Falling Out by Daniil Kharms
  • When There's A Fire In The Jungle by Martin Honeysett
  • 4Move Active Magnesium + Vitamins drink
  • De Profundis by Fyodor Tyutchev
  • The Living and the Dead: Episode 4

Tags

  • absurd
  • absurdism
  • acme
  • acmeism
  • acmeist
  • akhmatova
  • anna akhmatova
  • Anna Andreyevna
  • cccp
  • christian
  • Christianity
  • czarist russia
  • death
  • d m thomas
  • emigre
  • English
  • english translation
  • God
  • Gorenko
  • heart
  • humor
  • humour
  • imperial russia
  • information
  • leningrad
  • life
  • love
  • lyric
  • lyric poetry
  • lyric verse
  • night
  • nonsense
  • nonsense verse
  • pitr
  • poem
  • poet
  • Poetry
  • Polish
  • Review
  • rhyme
  • rhyming couplet
  • robert chandler
  • r s thomas
  • Russia
  • russian
  • Russian Futurist
  • russian poem
  • russian poet
  • russian poetry
  • russian revolution centenary
  • soviet
  • soviet poet
  • soviet union
  • St Petersburg
  • translation
  • tsarist russia
  • USSR
  • verse
  • vignette
  • wales
  • Welsh
  • welsh poem
  • welsh poet
  • welsh poetry
  • white emigre
  • wind
  • winter
  • А́нна Андре́евна
  • А́нна Андре́евна Ахма́това
  • Анна Ахматова
  • Ахматова
  • СССР
  • Сове́тский Сою́з
  • Сою́з Сове́тских Социалисти́ческих Респу́блик
  • Союз Советских Социалистических Республик

Category Cloud

Bridgend Christmas Commentary Drink Food halloween horror Japanese Languages Literature Movie Review Observations Poetry Polish Review Russia Russian satire Theatre Uncategorized Vignette Wales Welsh

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 87 other followers

Follow Rambling At The Bridge Head on WordPress.com

Blogroll

  • Discover New Voices
  • Discuss
  • Get Inspired
  • Get Mobile
  • Get Polling
  • Get Support
  • Great Reads
  • Learn WordPress.com
  • Theme Showcase
  • WordPress.com News

Community

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Tag: satellite

Here by R. S. Thomas

I am a man now.

Pass your hand over my brow,

You can feel the place where the brains grow.

 

I am like a tree,

From my top boughs I can see

The footprints that led up to me.

 

There is blood in my veins

That has run clear of the stain

Contracted in so many loins.

 

Why, then, are my hands red

With the blood of so many dead?

Is this where I was misled?

 

Why are my hands this way

That they will not do as I say?

Does no God hear when I pray?

 

I have nowhere to go.

The swift satellites show

The clock of my whole being is slow.

 

It is too late to start

For destinations not of the heart.

I must stay here with my hurt.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Tares (1961)

Posted on November 20, 2018Categories Literature, Poetry, Wales, WelshTags 1961, blood, blood in my veins, blood of so many dead, bough, brains, brains grow, brow, christ, christian, Christianity, clear of the stain, clock, clock of my whole being, clock of my whole being is slow, contracted, contracted in so many loins, Dead, destination, destinations not of the heart, does no god hear when i pray, footprints, footprints that led up to me, God, hands, heart, here, here with my hurt, i am a man, i am a man now, i am like a tree, i have nowhere, i have nowhere to go, i must stay here with my hurt, is this where i was mislead, it is too late to start, led up to me, loins, man now, mislead, must stay here, my hurt, my whole being, not do as i say, not of the heart, nowhere, nowhere to go., pass your hand over, pass your hand over my brow, place where the brains grow, poem, poet, Poetry, pray, r s thomas, run clear, run clear of the stain, satellite, slow, so many dead, stain, stay here, stay here with my hurt, swift, swift satellites, tares, there is blood in my veins, they will not do as i say, too late to start, tree, wales, Welsh, welsh poem, welsh poet, welsh poetry, where i was mislead, whole being, why are my hands this way, why then are my hands red, you can feel the place where the brains growLeave a comment on Here by R. S. Thomas
Blog at WordPress.com.
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy