<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535796" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Country Of Marriage</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dream of you walking at night along the streams<br>of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs<br>of birds opening around you as you walk.<br>You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This comes after silence. Was it something I said<br>that bound me to you, some mere promise<br>or, worse, the fear of loneliness and death?<br>A man lost in the woods in the dark, I stood<br>still and said nothing. And then there rose in me,<br>like the earth's empowering brew rising<br>in root and branch, the words of a dream of you<br>I did not know I had dreamed. I was a wanderer<br>who feels the solace of his native land<br>under his feet again and moving in his blood.<br>I went on, blind and faithful. Where I stepped<br>my track was there to steady me. It was no abyss<br>that lay before me, but only the level ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes our life reminds me<br>of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing<br>and in that opening a house,<br>an orchard and garden,<br>comfortable shades, and flowers<br>red and yellow in the sun, a pattern<br>made in the light for the light to return to.<br>The forest is mostly dark, its ways<br>to be made anew day after day, the dark<br>richer than the light and more blessed,<br>provided we stay brave<br>enough to keep on going in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How many times have I come to you out of my head<br>with joy, if ever a man was,<br>for to approach you I have given up the light<br>and all directions. I come to you<br>lost, wholly trusting as a man who goes<br>into the forest unarmed. It is as though I descend<br>slowly earthward out of the air. I rest in peace<br>in you, when I arrive at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our bond is no little economy based on the exchange<br>of my love and work for yours, so much for so much<br>of an expendable fund. We don't know what its limits are--<br>that puts us in the dark. We are more together<br>than we know, how else could we keep on discovering<br>we are more together than we thought?<br>You are the known way leading always to the unknown,<br>and you are the known place to which the unknown is always<br>leading me back. More blessed in you than I know,<br>I possess nothing worthy to give you, nothing<br>not belittled by my saying that I possess it.<br>Even an hour of love is a moral predicament, a blessing<br>a man may be hard up to be worthy of. He can only<br>accept it, as a plant accepts from all the bounty of the light<br>enough to live, and then accepts the dark,<br>passing unencumbered back to the earth, as I<br>have fallen tine and again from the great strength<br>of my desire, helpless, into your arms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What I am learning to give you is my death<br>to set you free of me, and me from myself<br>into the dark and the new light. Like the water<br>of a deep stream, love is always too much. We<br>did not make it. Though we drink till we burst<br>we cannot have it all, or want it all.<br>In its abundance it survives our thirst.<br>In the evening we come down to the shore<br>to drink our fill, and sleep, while it<br>flows through the regions of the dark.<br>It does not hold us, except we keep returning<br>to its rich waters thirsty. We enter,<br>willing to die, into the commonwealth of its joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I give you what is unbounded, passing from dark to dark,<br>containing darkness: a night of rain, an early morning.<br>I give you the life I have let live for the love of you:<br>a clump of orange-blooming weeds beside the road,<br>the young orchard waiting in the snow, our own life<br>that we have planted in the ground, as I<br>have planted mine in you. I give you my love for all<br>beautiful and honest women that you gather to yourself<br>again and again, and satisfy--and this poem,<br>no more mine than any man's who has loved a woman.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wendell+Berry">Wendell Berry</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535796" data-title="The Country Of Marriage de Wendell Berry" data-description="I. I dream of you walking at night along the streams of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs of birds opening around you as you walk. You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep. II. This comes after silence. Was i..."></div> </div> </div>

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