1. Home
  2. Poetry Magazine
  3. Poems
  4. Little Diary of Getting Old: VIII
Little Diary of Getting Old: VIII

Related Poem Content Details

And then at night, when old,
we start having vague pointless
scraps of dreams that lead us
to this place or that, since even
our failing senses insist on
outings: and lost friends reappear,
sleepwalking through the stupor
of surrendered existence.
But here too there’s something
that’s not unconscious, as when
the boatman stops his old ferry
along the banks of the Arno,
plunges his wooden bailer
into the bottom of the boat,
and dumps that stale water,
gone to grime between the staves,
overboard into the river,
where it flows again,
though the boat is held fast
amid the mud and rushes.




Carlo Betocchi, Tutte le poesie, © Garzanti Editore spa, 1996.
Source: Poetry (March 2010)

More from this issue

This poem originally appeared in the March 2010 issue of Poetry magazine

  • Search every issue of Poetry

Your results will be limited to content that appeared in Poetry magazine.Search the whole site

Little Diary of Getting Old: VIII

Related Poem Content Details

  • Search every issue of Poetry

Your results will be limited to content that appeared in Poetry magazine.Search the whole site

Other Information