I
The lyric poet ponders:
There is another poetry
in which the clash of arms
stands for a life of sacrifice
and higher purpose. How that
clamor excites a sedentary soul
like mine! Men in those poems
give names to their swords, but
never call a slave by name.
They scoff at lesser men
whose delight is peace, restlessly
enduring the hours they cannot
pursue glory. And time is their
greatest enemy: it has planned
the perfect ambush of their hopes.
They smash each other's heads
in tournaments to silence the laughter
of time. They limp from their fields
of endeavor, angry at their bodies
which need rest and gentle nursing.
II
The epic poet remembers:
There is another poetry
I learned under Master Anselm's
gentle sway, and then abandoned.
He taught me the names of flowers
and streams, made me touch rough oak
and soft poplar, showed me how
dawnlight and dusk differ. He guided
my listening to larks and orioles
and to the sweet cadence of a young
woman's voice. As he lay dying,
completely composed, he whispered,
'All these things are yours only
if you share them with people
starved for beauty. Never hoard
beauty as your own. Do not fear
the passage of time, for it always
brings new gifts and laughs
when we are limp, overwhelmed with wonder.'
Brilliantly composed. The way difference between human nature is drawn is itself very creative and impressive. In our culture the first kind of people are called Kshatriyas or warrior class and second Brahmans or intellectuals. Yes poetry lies in all fields of life attracting us according to our own nature and likings. It takes an exper's eye to draw it out from all facets of life.Thank you so much for sharing this lovely poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When I wrote intellectuals I meant it to broad word. Inclusive of teachers, nature lovers and persons of greater understanding towards life. They are the one who pass these gifts to us so selflessly like master Anselm.