Friday, 8 November 2013

A poem by the Danish writer
Piet Hein


A grassy plain that to the gaze
could match a billiard table’s baize.
A group of gentlemen outdoors
most dignified in grey plus-fours.

They stand a bit. They walk a bit.
They watch a bit. They drive a bit.
They look for that small ball in vain.
They walk a bit. And stand again...

Oh, you to whom this game we owe,
so well the human heart you know!
How smart the game we give the role
of an excuse to take a stroll!

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