"There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
we know her woof, her texture; she is given,
in the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings"- John Keats
Science will make many fables and stories die,
will turn Christian religion into mere mythology,
will trample belief into the ground without apology
and with its cold calculating and discerning eye
will search for it's kind of answers low and high
but will not the essence of hope, trust and love see,
will seek and predetermine how things ought to be,
to make mortal man like a god it will constantly try,
as if everything in life is in its catalogue, is just there,
it will not reckon the science lying outside of its reach.
By calculations, theories and measurement of rule and line
it will reckon boldly without any kind of compassion or care
and the philosophy of its reasoning it will coldly teach,
will in disrespect try to touch the very face of the divine.
[Reference: "Lamia" by John Keats.]
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem