Saturday, September 19, 2009

For My Son Noah Ten Years Old

Painting by Franz von Lenbach

For My Son Noah Ten Years Old

Night and day arrive and day after day goes by
And what is old remains old
and what is young remains young and grows old.
The lumber pile does not grow younger
nor the two-by-fours lose their darkness
but the old tree goes on
the barn stands without help so many years;
the advocate of darkness and night is not lost.

The horse steps up swings on one leg turns its body
the chicken flapping claws onto the roost
its wings whelping and walloping
but what is primitive is not to be shot
out into the night and the dark.
And slowly the kind man comes closer
loses his rage
sits down at table.

So I am proud only of those days that pass
in undivided tenderness
when you sit drawing or making books
stapled with messages to the world
or coloring a man with fire coming out of his hair.
Or we sit at a table with small tea carefully poured.
So we pass our time together calm and delighted.

Robert Bly

Posted over on Shigeku

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