Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership

Hymn To Life

 The hair falling on your forehead
 suddenly lifted.
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
The trees are whispering in the dark.
Your bare arms will be cold.
Far off where we can't see, the moon must be rising.
It hasn't reached us yet, slipping through the leaves to light up your shoulder.
But I know a wind comes up with the moon.
The trees are whispering.
Your bare arms will be cold.
From above, from the branches lost in the dark, something dropped at your feet.
You moved closer to me.
Under my hand your bare flesh is like the fuzzy skin of a fruit.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense"-- before the trees, birds, and insects, my hand on my wife's flesh is thinking.
Tonight my hand can't read or write.
Neither loving nor unloving.
It's the tongue of a leopard at a spring, a grape leaf, a wolf's paw.
To move, breathe, eat, drink.
My hand is like a seed splitting open underground.
Neither a song of the heart nor "common sense," neither loving nor unloving.
My hand thinking on my wife's flesh is the hand of the first man.
Like a root that finds water underground, it says to me: "To eat, drink, cold, hot, struggle, smell, color-- not to live in order to die but to die to live.
" And now as red female hair blows across my face, as something stirs on the ground, as the trees whisper in the dark, and as the moon rises far off where we can't see, my hand on my wife's flesh before the trees, birds, and insects, I want the right of life, of the leopard at the spring, of the seed splitting open-- I want the right of the first man.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Hymn To LifeEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top Nazim Hikmet Poems

Analysis and Comments on Hymn To Life

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Hymn To Life here.