I recently found out

… about Stanley Burnshaw’s death in September of this year. (He was 99). September was about the same time I found a first edition copy of The Poem Itself at the local used book store. It’s a marvelous book of translations of 45 modern poets–pre 1960’s modern–along with “interpretative discussion” on each poem. Some of the poets included are: Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Mallarme, Holderlin, Rilke, Brecht, Lorca, Neruda, and many I haven’t heard of, nor read, but that I’m eager to read. It seems like the thing to read as the sky blows snow at the house, again and again, piling it like poems at the back door, waiting for translation.