One of the things I love about the massive digital archive maintained by the Poetry Foundation is the little link at the bottom of each page: “Report a problem with this poem.” I suspect they hear from their share of smartasses — “It’s insufficiently outward-looking!” — but that strikes me as a small price to pay for the copy-editing help that poetry readers can provide. It’s one thing to locate a poem that you love online. It’s another, much rarer thing to locate an accurately transcribed version of it.
That was, I now realize, a rather frivolous introduction to a profound poem. Without further throat-clearing, here’s an error-free transcription of Seamus Heaney’s “From the Republic of Conscience,” because the internet needed one:
From the Republic of Conscience
I
When I landed in the republic of conscience
it was so noiseless when the engines stopped
I could hear a curlew high above the runway.
At immigration the clerk was an old man
who produced a wallet from his homespun coat
and showed me a photograph of my grandfather.
No porter. No interpreter. No taxi.
You carried what you had to and very soon
your symptoms of creeping privilege disappeared.
II
Fog is a dreaded omen there but lightning
spells universal good and parents hang
swaddled infants in trees during thunderstorms.
Salt is their precious mineral. And seashells
are held to the ear during births and funerals.
The base of all inks and pigments is seawater.
Their sacred symbol is a stylized boat.
The sail is an ear, the mast a sloping pen,
the hull a mouth-shape, the keel an open eye.
At their inauguration, public leaders
must swear to uphold unwritten law and weep
to atone for their presumption to hold office –
and to affirm their faith that all life sprang
from salt in tears which the sky-god wept
after he dreamt his solitude was endless.
III
I came back from that frugal republic
with my two arms the one length, the customs woman
having insisted my allowance was myself.
The old man rose and gazed into my face
and said that was official recognition
that I was now a dual citizen.
He therefore desired me when I got home
to consider myself a representative
and to speak on their behalf in my own tongue.
Their embassies, he said, were everywhere
but operated independently
and no ambassador would ever be relieved.
the poet in topeka 