[to the prophetic Hans Christian Andersen,
for his fairytale: 'The Emperor's Nightingale']
[to the tune of Vaughn Williams 'The Lark Ascending' played more and more faintly...]
it's so important to cry out loud
whenever it is you're with that crowd
and suddenly they've come to displace
the real bird with the fake-
though it is jeweled;
though it knows all the variations
clockwork, on-demand and hops with one wing folded!
giftwrapped! they'll exclaim yet you have lost
the nightingale forever, it may be
while looking down at your shoes;
examining the wrong clouds. or standing in line
at the cafeteria, phrasing it another way-
just to get through your day.
gone in an instant! wept the kitchen maid;
the goose girl in the hunting blind,
tending the geese
while the skies turned to glass
and then, shattered.
this- mattered!
ah echo this, echoed this through angelic realms
so vital it is to cry out loud
and not prevaricate
when this much is at stake:
the life of an Emperor-
the future state of Poetry on earth...
(too late) .
the docked wings of the Soul
mary angela douglas 22 december 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem