To live is to be slowly born’ –
what a simple and refreshing view
familiar to a born devout Hindu;
yet spoken by Saint-Exupery,
who saw his little prince become so great..
how wonderful are common words
shaking the common out of us;
growing nobly into our true self; so that
arguments about rebirth take second place..
where the future is all full of golden promise
as we become acquainted with ourself;
what matter, then, if it be iron age or gold?
Walk around now, in this cornfield of the soul:
see as a meadow sees: for all around
are seeds now human growings, watered into life with love,
growing into themselves, all golden-ripe;
Traherne’s immortal golden wheat: remembered as a child
into the memory of a man; to immortality;
the heaven of ourselves, becoming clear within;
and maybe then, some few among that meadow crowd
may catch your eye; and in that youthful light
may grow a little in their own true sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh this wonderful thought is so needed in every aspect Michael - we are most truly' growing into our own little heaven' - and our journedy through life is a masterclass indeed - this gem will go into my favourites - - thank you.... and wishes for more growth of such testaments from your golden pen...... from Fay.