My soul is a dark ploughed field
In the cold rain;
My soul is a broken field
Ploughed by pain.
Where windy grass and flowers
Were growing,
The field lies broken now
For another sowing.
Great Sower, when you tread
My field again,
Scatter the furrows there
With better grain.
The Yale Review is committed to publishing pieces from its archive as they originally appeared, without alterations to spelling, content, or style. Occasionally, errors creep in due to the digitization process; we work to correct these errors as we find them. You can email [email protected] with any you find.
Annie Ernaux's unpublished journals, Namwali Serpell on Toni Morrison's native figures, Lauren Oyler on her AI boyfriend, and more.
Annie Ernaux's unpublished journals, Namwali Serpell on Toni Morrison's native figures, Lauren Oyler on her AI boyfriend, and more.