Deep, Deep Soul Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Deep, Deep Soul
Deep, deep soul
Of thunder.
Deep, deep, waters
Cool, nocturnal.
Night walks in the woods
Deep, deep, deep
Barefooted thinker of the night
Shunning star and light.
Ancient moon of centuries
Small lake exploding bright
In the livid restless night.
Aloud, aloud the horn
Of plenty and of mug
From the fields ale is born.
Bleat the sheep to-night
Spying through chunks moonlight.
And in the old Meseta plain
Fall dews of night and rain
That magic mists transforms.
Deep, deep soul
Of thunder.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 3:17:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You are using a connotation of the word s-o-u-l whose meanings are longer than any list penned by a human hand could encompass - and here soul is not Aristotle's materialistic principle of life, nor Plato's IDEAL FORM, nor the much truncated concept in sectarian religions - It is rather THE SOUL OF THE WORLD, which inhabits each of us to the measure of our readiness but is also spread over and around us like a sheltering blanket. (As I was typing THE SOUL OF - a tremendous crash of thunder made the lights go out for a second and F-E-A-R went through like a scimitar. How easily this individual frame of nature can be frightened! Then lights came back on, but the fear - lingers,)