The eternal
The strong man may
well with the sword form his world,
like eagles his
fame well be skying;
but sometimes the
sword can get shattered when twirled
and eagles brought
down from their flying.
What force would
create is both fleeting and short,
like storms in the
desert it soon comes to nought.
But truth will
live on. Amidst axes and blades
her calm, gleaming
brow she uncovers.
She guides through
the nocturnal world’s shady glades,
and constantly
points to some other.
What’s true is
eternal: round heaven and earth
its words will
re-echo from birth to new birth.
What’s right is
eternal: its lily though crushed
can ne’er be completely
uprooted.
Should evil
prevail and the world end as dust,
what’s right can
be willed unrefuted.
Though round you
with cunning and force it’s oppressed,
it still has a
refuge concealed in your breast.
And will which in
flaming breast refuge did seek
takes mandom like
God, becomes action.
What’s right now
gains arms, what’s true now can speak,
and all see a
world that’s re-fashioned.
Each hazard you
faced and each sacrifice made
like stars rise
from Lethe and never will fade.
And poetry lasts,
unlike flowers’ passing scent,
or rainbows in
clouds someone glances.
The beauty you
fashion as dust will not end,
its countenance
old age enhances.
For beauty’s
eternal: with mind keen and brave
we fish up its
gold-sand from time’s mighty wave.
So grasp all that’s
true, so dare all that’s right,
the beautiful
fashion with pleasure!
The three will for
ever be mankind’s delight
and from time do
we plead for such treasure.
What time gave you
once you must give back as well,
the eternal alone
in your heart may still dwell.
To see the original poem, go to here.
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