W. S. Merwin(b. 1927)
Losing a Language
A breath leaves the sentences and does not come back
yet the old still remember something that they could say
but they know now that such things are no longer believed
and the young have fewer words
m a n y of t h e things t h e words w e r e a b o u t
no l o n g e r exist
t h e n o u n f o r s t a n d i n g in mist by a h a u n t e d tree
t h e verb for I
t h e c h i l d r e n will n o t r e p e a t
the phrases their parents speak
s o m e b o d y h a s p e r s u a d e d t h e m
t h a t it is b e t t e r to say everything differently
s o t h a t t h e y c a n b e a d m i r e d s o m e w h e r e
f a r t h e r a n d f a r t h e r away
w h e r e n o t h i n g t h a t is h e r e is k n o w n
we have little to say to e a c h o t h e r
w e are w r o n g a n d d a r k
in t h e eyes of t h e n e w o w n e r s
t h e r a d i o is i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e
t h e d a y is glass
w h e n t h e r e is a voice at t h e d o o r it is foreign
e v e r y w h e r e i n s t e a d of a n a m e t h e r e is a lie
n o b o d y h a s s e e n it h a p p e n i n g
n o b o d y r e m e m b e r s
this is w h a t t h e w o r d s w e r e m a d e
t o p r o p h e s y
h e r e are t h e extinct f e a t h e r s
h e r e is t h e rain we saw