Charon World’s Best Poem

Charon World’s Best Poem

You who pull the oars, who meet the dead,
who leave them at the other bank, and glide,
alone across the reedy marsh, please take
my boy’s hand as he climbs into the dark hull.
Look. The sandals trip him, and you see,
he is afraid to step there barefoot.

Zonas, first century B.C.E.
from Dances for Flute and Thunder
translated by Brooks Haxton

Charon World’s Best Poem

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