* * *
Although the war took you away,
I feel you more alive
Than many men I meet today,
Who happened to survive.
Dear friend, the war took you away.
Though dead, it’s you alone
Who fill my heart with warmth, while they…
They chill me to the bone.
* * *
The firmament by no means all
The time appears so firm.
I’m terrified lest it should fall
And crush me like a worm.
But, looking at the mountain tops,
I realise I’m proof
From accident, for they, like props,
Support the heaven’s roof.
* * *
Where are you, Happiness? Show yourself! Speak!
«Up in the mountains, here on the summit.»
Happiness, where? I’ve ascended the peak.
«Down in the torrent—you haven’t yet swum it.»
Where are you now? Many torrents are past.
«I’m in the lines you shall write.» Don’t forsake me!
Look, here they are! Show your face now—at last!
«I’m way ahead. You may yet overtake me!»
* * *
«Saddle my father’s horse!» I said,
«Thank God, I’ve learned to ride!»
I mounted, but it tossed its head
And threw me to one side.
I called aloud for silence: «Bring
My father’s lute to try!»
The moment that I touched a string,
It severed with a cry.
* * *
On land, as in the sea, I swim
On top, or struggle out of depth,
Where utterances gay or grim
Emerge as so much wasted breath.
When troubles harry us on land,
We feel at sea. In sorry plight
We swim without a helping hand,
With neither ship nor shore in sight.