Poem
Alice Oswald
The Self-playing Instrument of Water
The Self-playing Instrument of Water
The Self-playing Instrument of Water
It is the story of the falling rainTo turn into a leaf and fall again
It is the secret of a summer shower
To steal the light and hide it in a flower
And every flower a tiny tributary
That from the ground flows green and momentary
Is one of water’s wishes and this tale
Hangs in a seed head smaller than my thumbnail
If only I a passerby could pass
As clear as water through a plume of grass
To find the sunlight hidden at the tip
Turning to seed a kind of lifting raindrip
Then I might know like water how to balance
The weight of hope against the light of patience
Water which is so raw so earthy-strong
And lurks in cast iron tanks and leaks along
Drawn under gravity towards my tongue
To cool and fill the pipe-work of this song
Which is the story of the falling rain
That rises to the light and falls again
© 2013, Alice Oswald
Commissioned by St James\' Property Developers.
Alice Oswald
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1966)
Alice Oswald is one of the most important poets writing in Britain today, and also one of the most elusive. Her six collections combine the English traditions of nature poetry, history, myth, and lyric; moving genres and forms, she has written a book of poems about flowers, a reshaping of The Iliad, short lyrics, and a book-length poem about the people (present and past) and animals that make u...
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The Self-playing Instrument of Water
It is the story of the falling rainTo turn into a leaf and fall again
It is the secret of a summer shower
To steal the light and hide it in a flower
And every flower a tiny tributary
That from the ground flows green and momentary
Is one of water’s wishes and this tale
Hangs in a seed head smaller than my thumbnail
If only I a passerby could pass
As clear as water through a plume of grass
To find the sunlight hidden at the tip
Turning to seed a kind of lifting raindrip
Then I might know like water how to balance
The weight of hope against the light of patience
Water which is so raw so earthy-strong
And lurks in cast iron tanks and leaks along
Drawn under gravity towards my tongue
To cool and fill the pipe-work of this song
Which is the story of the falling rain
That rises to the light and falls again
The Self-playing Instrument of Water
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