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Dark August Analysis



Author: poem of Derek Walcott Type: poem Views: 12

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So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky

of this black August. My sister, the sun,

broods in her yellow room and won't come out.



Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume

like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,

she will not rise and turn off the rain.



She is in her room, fondling old things,

my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls

like a crash of plates from the sky,



she does not come out.

Don't you know I love you but am hopeless

at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly



to love the dark days, the steaming hills,

the air with gossiping mosquitoes,

and to sip the medicine of bitterness,



so that when you emerge, my sister,

parting the beads of the rain,

with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,



all with not be as it was, but it will be true

(you see they will not let me love

as I want), because, my sister, then



I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,

The black rain, the white hills, when once

I loved only my happiness and you.





Submitted by DADI






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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||

.: :.

The poet refers dark weather as a bad days which comes in human life. He actually wants to say that there are many things which can't be fixed like rain which is the negative spiral of love. At last he says that the dark August (bad days in life) is sure to come again but he has learnt to love the bad weather and rains.. That means no matter how the harsh life seems we must not lose hope and see the positive sides of life rather than negative. Gyanendra Kafley

| Posted on 2014-03-22 | by a guest


.: :.

This poem refers to a dark period in life: the description of the bad weather illustrates the very stormy and negative emotions affecting the persons psyche. Meanwhile, the sun, representing happiness
and joy, is personified as a sister,brooding and remembering the happiness of the past, but refusing to emerge and alleviate the depressing bad weather. The person feels love but is hopeless at fixing the rain, the negative spiral of a relationship. However there is a stoic hope for the future as the experience of sadness and pain results in a deeper strength and appreciation for the future happiness which will emerge through the trials of life, when feelings of guilt and blame are absolved by forgiveness and love, and a more mature understanding of what it means to live and to love and to be human- the spirit endures.

| Posted on 2013-04-14 | by a guest


.: :.

The alliteration (swollen sky, sister sun, dark days, forehead flowers, learnt to love), the \"s\"sounds, and the enjambment used (one sentence pulled through several stanzas) paint a melancholy picture. There is a shift at the end of the 4th stanza; at first the speaker was waiting, almost hopeful. The energy was fairly high, with words such as yellow, broods, kettle, crash of plates, and thunder, all of which either sound harsh or represent an obnoxiously \"loud\" item/action. Then the tone changes. The speaker is no longer upset or anxious, but he has accepted what he cannot control and is learning to deal with it with a sad tranquility.

| Posted on 2012-01-17 | by a guest


.: :.

this poem is unique in its own way and is very intricate upon what he is trying to respond to. i think this poem has alot of potential for a vivid explanation to the way he he is trying to assert his meaning across to the reader. (jon b.)

| Posted on 2010-05-07 | by a guest


.: :.

Walcott contrasts elemental images with homely ones: rain, mountains, thunder with kettles, plates, room. This contrast seems to distinguish what we humans can control with what nature, the world hands to us.
When the narrator says "I am hopeless at fixing the rain" it suggests confusion between the two categories, leading to an unspecified conflict.
The end of the poem presents an imagined future in which the forgiven narrator has learned to embrace both dark and happy experiences which provide "bitter medicine."
As with much of Walcott's poetry, reductive interpretations miss the breadth, the richness of ideas implied in the diction.

| Posted on 2009-02-19 | by a guest


.: :.

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August. My sister, the sun,
broods in her yellow room and won't come out.
Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume
like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,
she will not rise and turn off the rain.
She is in her room, fondling old things,
my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls
like a crash of plates from the sky,
she does not come out.
Don't you know I love you but am hopeless
at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly
to love the dark days, the steaming hills,
the air with gossiping mosquitoes,
and to sip the medicine of bitterness,
so that when you emerge, my sister,
parting the beads of the rain,
with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,
all with not be as it was, but it will be true
(you see they will not let me love
as I want), because, my sister, then
I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,
The black rain, the white hills, when once
I loved only my happiness and you.

| Posted on 2008-03-29 | by a guest




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