Spin bowl Oh ball of fate, in parabole!
Ten thousand overs dare your drive in vain.
Man marks the earth with whitewash, his control
stops at the stumps and balls you soon shall gain.
The wickets are your prey, and it is plain
your shadow spins so fast that not a sole
batsman’s left before that dropp of rain
calls the inning’s toss and sweeps each soul
back to the pavilion whence it came.
6 August 1991 Parody Andrew LANG and Ralph Waldo Emerson - Brahma
See also Brahma Revisited
Brahma
If the wild bowler thinks he bowls,
Or if the batsman thinks he's bowled,
They know not, poor misguided souls,
They too shall perish unconsoled.
I am the batsman and the bat,
I am the bowler and the ball,
The umpire, the pavilion cat,
The roller, pitch, and stumps, and all.
Andrew LANG 1844_1912
Parody Ralph Waldo EMERSON – Brahma
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem