How deeply fortunate my life, my every prayer heard by the angels. I asked for the earth; I received earth, like so much mud in the face. I prayed for relief from suffering; I received suffering. Who can say my prayers were not heard? They were translated, edited—and if certain of the important words were left out or misunderstood, a crucial article deleted, still they were taken in, studied like ancient texts. Perhaps they were ancient texts, re-created in the vernacular of a particular period.
Part of the Ancient Text, a poem from Louise Gluck.
