37,89 €
The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems
The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems
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The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems
The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems
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37,89 €
Beginning with the impassioned, never-before-published title poem, here is the poet.Agha Shahid Ali died in 2001, mourned by myriad lovers of poetry and devoted students. This volume, his shining legacy, moves from playful early poems to themes of mourning and loss, culminating in the ghazals of Call Me Ishmael Tonight. The title poem appears in print for the first time.from “The Veiled Suite”:I wait for him to look straight into my eyes.This is our only chance for magnificence.If he, carefully…

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Beginning with the impassioned, never-before-published title poem, here is the poet.

Agha Shahid Ali died in 2001, mourned by myriad lovers of poetry and devoted students. This volume, his shining legacy, moves from playful early poems to themes of mourning and loss, culminating in the ghazals of Call Me Ishmael Tonight. The title poem appears in print for the first time.

from “The Veiled Suite”:
I wait for him to look straight into my eyes.
This is our only chance for magnificence.
If he, carefully, upon this hour of ice,
will let us almost completely crystallize,
tell me, who but I could chill his dreaming night.
Where he turns, what will not appear but my eyes?
Wherever he looks, the sky is only eyes.
Whatever news he has, it is of the sea.

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Beginning with the impassioned, never-before-published title poem, here is the poet.

Agha Shahid Ali died in 2001, mourned by myriad lovers of poetry and devoted students. This volume, his shining legacy, moves from playful early poems to themes of mourning and loss, culminating in the ghazals of Call Me Ishmael Tonight. The title poem appears in print for the first time.

from “The Veiled Suite”:
I wait for him to look straight into my eyes.
This is our only chance for magnificence.
If he, carefully, upon this hour of ice,
will let us almost completely crystallize,
tell me, who but I could chill his dreaming night.
Where he turns, what will not appear but my eyes?
Wherever he looks, the sky is only eyes.
Whatever news he has, it is of the sea.

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