OTHERS

may close, but this one, impalpable,
so painfully exposed,
stopping you from living—and still
keeping you alive, this one only, for
ever unhealed, for you
alone, may it remain

open


Ryszard Krynicki

Walt Whitman: A Song

COME,

I will make the continent indissoluble;
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon;
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies;
I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each other’s necks;
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.
For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you, ma femme!
For you! for you, I am trilling these songs,
In the love of comrades,
In the high-towering love of comrades.