Seamus Heaney	No encuentro un caso en que los poemas hayan cambiado al mundo, pero lo que si hacen es cambiar el entendimiento que la gente tiene de lo que pasa en él.

The poet speaks voz del autor ARGO

Título      Poem for Mary      St Francis and the birds      texto

Stepping Stones voz del autor Faber - Penguin Audiobooks Oír el disco completo

Título "Mossbawn"      Sunlight      Personal Helicon      Bogland texto      The Tollund Man      Punishment      Strange Fruit      Exposure      Oysters      Casualty "Glanmore Sonnets"      2, 3, 7, 10 "Station Island"      VII      Ugolino "The Haw Lantern"      Alphabets      From the Republic of Conscience "Clearances"      Prologue, 2, 3, 5, 8      The Wishing Tree      Fosterling "Lightenings"      i, ii, vi, vii, viii "Crossings"      xxvii, xxxii, xxxiii, xxxiv      Tollund      St Kevin and the Blackbird texto      Mint      At the Wellhead

Beowulf a new translation voz de Seamus Heaney Faber - Penguin Audiobooks Oír el disco completo

Título      Capítulo 1      Capítulo 2      Capítulo 3      Capítulo 4      Capítulo 5      Capítulo 6      Capítulo 7      Capítulo 8      Capítulo 9      Capítulo 10      Capítulo 11      Capítulo 12      Capítulo 13      Capítulo 14      Capítulo 15      Capítulo 16      Capítulo 17      Capítulo 18      Capítulo 19      Capítulo 20      Capítulo 21      Capítulo 22      Capítulo 23      Capítulo 24      Capítulo 25      Capítulo 26      Capítulo 27      Capítulo 28      Capítulo 29

Seamus Heaney	textos

St Kevin and the Blackbird And then there was St Kevin and the blackbird. The saint is kneeling, arms stretched out, inside His cell, but the cell is narrow, so One turned-up palm is out the window, stiff As a crossbeam, when a blackbird lands And lays in it and settles down to nest. Kevin feels the warm eggs, the small breast, the tucked Neat head and claws and, finding himself linked Into the network of eternal life, Is moved to pity: now he must hold his hand Like a branch out in the sun and rain for weeks Until the young are hatched and fledged and flown. * And since the whole thing's imagined anyhow, Imagine being Kevin. Which is he? Self-forgetful or in agony all the time From the neck on out down through his hurting forearms? Are his fingers sleeping? Does he still feel his knees? Or has the shut-eyed blank of underearth Crept up through him? Is there distance in his head? Alone and mirrored clear in love's deep river, 'To labour and not to seek reward,' he prays, A prayer his body makes entirely For he has forgotten self, forgotten bird And on the riverbank forgotten the river's name.

St Francis and the Birds When Francis preached love to the birds They listened, fluttered, throttled up Into the blue like a flock of words Released for fun from his holy lips. Then wheeled back, whirred about his head, Pirouetted on brothers' capes. Danced on the wing, for sheer joy played And sang, like images took flight. Which was the best poem Francis made, His argument true, his tone light.