The Beauty of the Moon

beauty of the moon

I found this book at a shop in the beautiful little city of Galway on the west coast of Ireland. I really liked the cover and I loved the book’s final poem:

by Anne Haverty

la beauté de la lune
Diana’s lovely far from perfect face
rising from the fiery embers of her eclipse
rides west to light the fox and bear.

To praise in our dejected age
this globe that laves our night-time
dark invites derision. As if one didn’t know
the features of his foolish face are but rocks
and abominable fields trampled
with man’s giant steps. Yet in our fin
de siècle 
infused with green not rose
I insist I hope to always praise
la beauté de la lune.

If he what I have betrays,
when she who is not born has gone
away to a dismal State of the USA,
if my sisters grow sour
and my rival gets all the prizes,
when my share of the numerous sorrows
of the world shadows my gaze
and I am old and grey and all of that
I will exalt and love her still,
I will, I hope to always praise
the woman in the moon.

la beauté de la lune,
her heavy neck, her ragged cloud of hair
Why don’t I write it plain
the beauty of the moon.


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