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Mark Strand
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No man is continent who visits islands

You, who desire, night
After night, to cross the sea
In search of islands, letting
Outlandish winds escort you
Where they will, take care.

No good can ever come
Of constant traveling.
Knowing no rest, desire
Will only lead you on
Far out beyond your means.

Islands will take shape
Before you, waves will break
Along the glassy beaches,
Recoil and break again,
O do not go there.

No matter how the birds
Flood the empty air,
The trees tend the shade,
Or flowers rise to meet you,
Do not be taken in.

Set one foot on the shore
And islands will appear
That seem far lovelier
Than those on which you are.
You will be off again.

Your days will turn into
Extensions of the night,
And on the sea’s slow drift
Toward what is always new
You will be bound forever.

You who long to escape,
Never again will know
The look of a land laid out,
Where pleasure within bounds
And restraint are commonplace.
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