Encomium (Praise) Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

You newcomer, listen to the aged Ragged monk:
Praise the palace, the genus of the King,
propagate that when born he was shining,
it was a miracle; people gape idly in such rumors.

Praise the education of his successors,
his friends who sacrifice themselves for him.
False or not, tell that he adores the Queen,
that he is well-bred, a righteous judge,
a God-sent prophet, the expert of unknown things.

Praise the victories and those mourning the dead ones.
If the folks get worried about new war tax, do cough.
Tell: ‘he punishes the wretched to save the people,
Pericles created the Golden Age by means of money.’

Have saliva to tie and loosen everything,
not like wordy incautious Machiavelli
We, the Ragged monks, are crafty, hidden
in clouds, where no one could ever suspect us.



© JosephJosephides