'Does it matter? Losing your legs?' Siegfried Sassoon
Now let the legless boy show the great lady
How well he can manage his crutches.
It doesn't matter though the Sister objects,
'He's not used to them yet', when such is
The will of the Princess. Come, Tommy,
Try a few desperate steps through the ward.
Then the hand of Royalty will pat your head
And life suddenly cease to be hard.
For a couple of legs are surely no miss
When the loss leads to such an honour as this!
One knows, when one sees how jealous the rest
Of the children are, it's been all for the best! —
But would the sound of your sticks on the floor
Thundered in her skull for evermore!
by Hugh MacDiarmid
ysth@cat:~$ logout Connection to elephant closed.
In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?
by Rabi'a al Basri, from various sources, translator unknown
In want (and what's a greater curse?)
He was indebted to my purse.
I made a man of him anew,
And yet have not received a sou.
And though his all to me he owes,
His meat, his drink, his very clothes;
He can with ease my presence bear,
Can at me, without blushing, stare:
Was ever gratitude so rare?
by Nicholas Boileau, translated by Richard McLaughlin and Howard E. Slack
taken from Music of the Mind: 1000 Years of European Poetry, edited by Richard McLaughlin and Howard E. Slack