Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The Gentle Movement of the Day

Verse poem I wrote for class. The title is from a translation of Faust.

"The Gentle Movement of the Day"

Old Man Time mumbles in his whicker chair
about ingratitude from those he serves.
He says, as he scratches his hoary hair,
“It’s clear that they want more than they deserve.

“At birth I give to each and all one Day,
what’s then the short sum of their existence.
But Week, then Month and Years go on their way,
and short Day loses his significance.

“Yet still a few days come which stand alone—
those wild days which chart the depth of life,
full of pathos, that marrow to the bone,
which fills a life with ecstasy and grief.”

Old Man Time, get you now quickly to bed!
Short Day is ebbing, and soon will be dead.

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