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Poems
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Poems

4.6 10
by Hermann Hesse, James Wright
 

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Few American readers seem to be aware that Hermann Hesse, author of the epic novels Steppenwolf and Siddhartha, among many others, also wrote poetry, the best of which the poet James Wright has translated and included in this book. This is a special volume—filled with short, direct poems about love, death, loneliness, the seasons—that is

Overview

Few American readers seem to be aware that Hermann Hesse, author of the epic novels Steppenwolf and Siddhartha, among many others, also wrote poetry, the best of which the poet James Wright has translated and included in this book. This is a special volume—filled with short, direct poems about love, death, loneliness, the seasons—that is imbued with some of the imagery and feeling of Hesse's novels but that has a clarity and resonance all its own, a sense of longing for love and for home that is both deceptively simple and deeply moving.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781466835306
Publisher:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Publication date:
06/18/2013
Series:
FSG Classics
Sold by:
Macmillan
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
96
Sales rank:
660,593
File size:
2 MB

Meet the Author

Herman Hesse (1877-1962) was a German poet and novelist. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1962.


Hermann Hesse (1877-1962) was a German poet and novelist. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1962. He was the author of works including Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, and Demian.
Poetry collections by James Wright (1927-80) include The Green Wall (1957), which won the Yale Series of Younger Poets award, Saint Judas (1959), The Branch Will Not Break (1963), Shall We Gather at the River (1968), and Two Citizens (1973). Wright was elected a fellow of The Academy of American Poets in 1971, and the following year his Collected Poems received the Pulitzer Prize. He died in New York City in 1980, having served on the English faculties at the University of Minnesota, Macalester College, and Hunter College (CUNY).

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Poems 4.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 10 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
For what i did. I wish i could take back what i said. I raise my head .for all the promises i made.wherever i layed i have lyed. It makes me feel if i am tied. This is where i raise my head.~ naltia
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Siucide by my bed praying for god to shoot my head. I take the jar of pills and devure theme like hard candy. But this time it isnt and i know im dead.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
My god what did he do?????
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Is that for real? That was adorable. If you need to talk im here. From Mallory
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
*kisses back smiling*
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Post new poems everyday. Yay! Each poem is at a different result)) <p> Somewhere over the sea, he waits for me. Somewhere along the shore, he waits forevermore. He sits and waits all day. Really, what more is there to say?
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Did u get hurt? I mean the way the poem soumds its like u got hurt too sad...
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Towers burning both ablaze. Terror strikes amid the haze// 9am the first plane hits. We cant believe what it is.// 9:15 both are enflamed. Terrorized by a ruthless game.// 10:35 the first tower fell. A perfect picture of an earthly Hell.// a white ash wall engulfs the streets. "Cant hold on" and i fell to my knees// gasping for breath as the secobd falls. Dust black as night hits like a wall.// on to the pentagon. The third plane crash. No one was in it when it turned inyo ash.// the white House was next on the major hit list. But it was saved due to a heroic man's grit// the people on that house bound plane, werent soldiers but in honor were slain.// they stood. And they did what was right. God rest those souls who died on that flight// Nine Eleven, Two Thousand and One. I knew it had only begun....
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Caliiiiiii
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a poem that i wrote myself. I put spacing in between the lines. This a poem about me and a women figure in my life. I am a girl sixteen years old. The poem is called so the first word is the title. I hope you like it if you do put you as your title thanx for reading. You. It's true that I'm tired. But what of remains a secret. It's true I'm hurt. But by who is in the dark. Yes I am sick. With what is still the question. You act like your better than me. And maybe that is true. But why. Why do you hang it over my head. Cant you just let it go. Or is it the thing that you do. Dangle it over my head. Like nothing is wrong with what your doing. How come you dont just let me go. I dont change for anybody. And you arn't the exception. That just makes you the next person in line. You never stop yelling long enough. To hear me out. So why do you bother. You know that it hurts to even try talking to you. But I try too anyway. Just to make you happy. Why did you settle for me. When theres plenty of others. It's you. I'm tired of you. I'm hurt by you. And I'm sick of you.