Thursday, December 17, 2009

A Poet of Confidence

Four quatrains (out of many)

Tell everyone
Now, today, I shall
sing beautifully for
my friend's pleasure

We shall enjoy it
As for him who finds
fault, may silliness
and sorrow take him!

I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument

Although they are
Only breath, words
which I command
are immortal

These are from Sappho, translated by Mary Barnard, another literary friend/associate of Ezra Pound.
A lyre is made of tortoise shell. So many tools and instruments are forged from what is around us, and become part of a higher purpose.

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