Cassandra Poem by Robinson Jeffers
Cassandra
The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers
Hooked in the stones of the wall,
The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra,
Whether the people believe
Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they'd liefer
Meet a tiger on the road.
Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion—
Vendors and political men
Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for kindly
Wisdom. Poor bitch be wise.
No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to men
And gods disgusting—you and I, Cassandra.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/7/2026 7:27:34 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
The text of this poem has not been recorded correctly here. Line 9 should end with kindly instead of kind. I have checked several authoritative sources on this to confirm.
Looks like it's been fixed. Thanks.