In the Reading Room
Alone in the library room,even when others
Are there in the room, alone, except for themselves;
There is the illusion of peace; the air in the room;
Is stilled; there are reading lights on the tables,
Looking as if they're reading, looking as if
They're studying the text, and understanding,
Shedding light on what the words are saying;
But under their steady imbecile gaze the page
Is blank, patiently waiting not to be blank.
The page is blank until the mind that reads
Crosses the black river, seeking the Queen
Of the Underworld, Persephone. where she sits
By the side of the one who brought her there from Enna,
Hades the mute, the deaf, king of the dead letter;
She is clothed in the beautiful garment of our thousand
Misunderstandings of the sacred text.
David Ferry
In the Reading Room
First published in The New Yorker in the September 13, 2003 issue.
Ferry currently is completing a volume of his collected poems. He is also an acomplished translator, whose vast works include Virgil's Eclogues and Georgics; Horace's Odes and Epistles; and Gilgamesh: a New Rendering in English Verse.