I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape
Flood, fire, and demon — his adroit designs
Will strain to nothing in the strict confines
Of this sweet Order, where, in pious rape,
I hold his essence and amorphous shape,
Till he with Order mingles and combines.
Past are the hours, the years, of our duress,
His arrogance, our awful servitude:
I have him. He is nothing more nor less
Than something simple not yet understood;
I shall not even force him to confess;
Or answer. I will only make him good.
He is nothing more or less Than something simple not yet understood. Intricacies in human nature aptly pointed out. Thanks for sharing it here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
He is nothing more nor less Than something simple not yet understood; I shall not even force him to confess; Or answer. I will only make him good. very good poem full of emotions. tony