Danse Russe

If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,—
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
'I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so! '
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,—

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

by William Carlos Williams

Comments (15)

deneme deneme deneme deneme
This poem shocked me into drunken laughter when I first read it...and I had no drink...but it awoke my need to find a voice that was both honest and simple...bless you WCW...you are a saint for us all to revere
nice poem! It's a good thing that the author finds peace in his own company in his own house, instead of seeking it in the arms of another woman.
Could this poem fall under the category TMI? Even if it does, I was laughing go hard because don't we all do the I am so great dance when we are all alone?
Sometimes in loneliness we find who we are. Thanks for shearing.
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