| |
Elinor Wylie:
The Eagle and the Mole
Avoid the reeking herd,
Shun the polluted flock,
Live like that stoic bird,
The eagle of the rock.
The huddled warmth of crowds
Begets and fosters hate;
He keeps above the clouds
His cliff inviolate.
When flocks are folded warm,
And herds to shelter run,
He sails above the storm,
He stares into the sun.
If in the eagle's track
Your sinews cannot leap,
Avoid the lathered pack,
Turn from the steaming sheep.
If you would keep your soul
From spotted sight or sound,
Live like the velvet mole:
Go burrow underground.
And there hold intercourse
With roots of trees and stones,
With rivers at their source,
And disembodied bones.
Ok, I admit it. I am denigrating poetry. But, prosaic - or hypochondric, cynic, hysteric, paranoic, or all of it - I just don't want some sch....er lawyer running after me because some people stared into the sun, lost their sight - and now, Elinor gone, blame me. Yes, I know, YOU would never do it. Of course not. But, as they say, just because I am paranoic doesn't mean they aren't after me. Does not the prey, by behaving as prey, invite the hunter to behave as hunter?
By the way, that lone eagle would likely lose its sight even faster than you or I, because of its narrow field of view and superior focussing ability. But eagles are too smart for that sort of thing. Besides, they look down on what they decry as their wayward brothers: those outcasts of the spirit, those money handlers in the temple, those vultures feeding off human scraps, those legal eagles... (Sorry, I am just venting this for a friend, and any similarity to living or dead persons is purely accidental!)
Now, what would you do if you lost your sight? Believe me, relying on your third eye can be cumbersome, especially at intersections...
So don't look into the sun, look instead into your soul - if you dare - and, by all means, look into the beautiful eyes of Elinor - well, sort of - imagining yourself as one of those she spent her short&stormy&steamy life with...
What? I pollute the purity of poetry with sordid sex? Oh boy. Who had that thought, me or you? To the pure, everything is pure. Like the river at its source...
|
|
Elinor Wylie:
Adler und Maulwurf
Vermeid den Mief der Schar,
scheu Herden, die gemein,
leb stoisch wie der Aar
in seinem Felsgestein.
Der Menge hitz'ge Zahl
viel Feindschaft zeugt und nährt;
Er hält, hoch er überm Tal,
sein Felsheim unversehrt.
Wenn Schwarm vereint sich warm
und Herd' zur Hütte flieht,
schwebt über Wetters Harm
er, der die Sonne sieht.
Auch wenn für Adlers Raum
Dir Kraft der Schwingen fehlt,
bleib fern dem Herdenschaum,
vermeid der Schafe Feld.
Wenn Deine Seele strebt
zu leben ohne Schwund,
leb' wie der Maulwurf lebt:
vergrab' dich in den Grund.
Und dort verkehr' im Rund
mit Wurzelwerk und Stein,
mit Stromes Quelle und
entkörpertem Gebein.
Tut mir leid, ich muß prosaisch werden, auch bei einem so erbauenden
Gedicht. Wenn ein Adler in die Sonne starrt - when he "stares" into the sun - dann erblindet er. Besonders der Adler, der ja für die Schärfe seines Auges berühmt und berüchtigt ist.
Also bitte, tun Sie sowas nicht. Starren Sie lieber in ihre Seele oder Atman oder Nicht-Dualität - oder ins Glaserl Wein (besonders wenn in Wien) oder in schöne Augen (besonders die der Elinor) - glauben sie mir, auf dem dritten Auge alleine sehen zu müssen, kann gefährlich werden...
Herzlichen Dank, Meister Bertram, für die Rettung aus Übersetzernot! Und Elinor beugt ihr Haupt in Dankbarkeit für ihre wiedererlangte Schönheit!
|
...
|