Ralph Waldo Emerson
If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Brahma by Ralph Waldo Emerson )
- Untitled, Katty Briones
- He is Me, Faith Taylors
- Prancing Horses, Joseph Narusiewicz
- Turn fatal, hasmukh amathalal
- She Is 52, Tyrone Gayle
- With nature, hasmukh amathalal
- Owl, kassem oude
- No ordinary, hasmukh amathalal
- Coal - your turn, gajanan mishra
- Bluff-masters As Contemporary Indian Eng.., Bijay Kant Dubey