The eyeballs' jet, nielloed depths
With shining glint of vital life within,
With trust-reposing and faithfullest abandon.
They gaze at you serenely,
The dog's resting its muzzle in your human hands.
What can I find there when plunging in the depths? -
Innumerable ages of pristine and brutal strife;
Pursuits of savagery in desolate terrains;
Lupine persistence, perseverance and grit, -
And now dogged love for bipeds as I am.
What bonds, concatenation and rapport
Has made me a true apple of its eyes?
I've never met a truer brother-in-arms,
So helpful, so obedient of grace!
So buckled, fastened, glued to master-man!
There must be some divinity canine
Who's made us, humans, worshippers of dogs!
Wherever place you walk, whatever clime
You'l find the eyes, so staunch, sincerely pristine
Guarding your composure, and industry, and sport!
Dear Oleg, such a splendid poem of the day.....congrats for being chosen....10++++
Because they speak with their eyes, And their love for us and their generous heart is also expressed, thru their kind and wonderful Looks and eyes. Your poem made me cry, this I wrote with tears in my eyes, because it went and touched so deep and all I though of was when I lost my Sandy's eyes. An unforgettable work of feeling and poetic dignity.
So helpful, so obedient of grace! So buckled, fastened, glued to master-man! ....so good to man.Beautiful poem on dog and its eyes. Thanks and congratulations for choosen this poem as the poem of the day.
Yes! Humans are a dog's best friend.Lovely tribute to our canine companions who are always true to heart.. a ten...
They gaze at you serenely, ...................................... perfect observation. Thanks for choosing such subject for writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As a dog lover I can't resist these type of poems. I like the heading and the theme. However, the poem is heavy going. I would suggest an economy of words.
Thank you for a valuable comment, Robert! I wish I'd written it differently. But what is published, is an immedate, maybe raw idea couched in awkward forms founded on the feeling I was overcome when composing.