Any Particular Day Poem by Seamus O' Brian
Any Particular Day
The mist hangs in the trees on mornings like these
Whilst emperors reign and thieves are hanged
And envious eyes watch empty thrones while cemeteries gnaw on duchesses' bones
While children feast on ache of hunger, 'Not pancakes again! ' the executive thunders.
And the earth turns again, and what will be now has evermore been
The rising sun dimmed by the tree-clinging mist on any given day- or none like this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 9:10:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Just a small planet, our little Earth, yet such disparity in the lives of its inhabitants. The well-fed are tired of eating, while the starving have nothing in their stomachs but hunger pangs. And the thief goes to jail for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family, while another writes laws so he can steal with impunity. How can this be? And yet it always has been, and will continue. This great poem speaks a sad truth.
Thank you, dear Lorraine, for adding layers of intriguing thought. Yes, indeed, the pain of life can be overwhelming at times, but also can spur us on to try to make small differences in our own small circles of influence; and you are absolutely correct that this has and will always be so. Blessings to you and yours for the New Year, Lorraine! . :)