I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Ten years honing this fine blade,
And it has not drawn blood.
Now, you'll see of what we're made:
Who, wronged, is owed in blood?
The Original: 劍客: 十年磨一劍, 霜刃未曾試. 今日把示君, 誰有不平事.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
I see this lion, swords in teeth,
And find myself in disbelief,
Am I to believe this wild cat
Swallowed two men, coats, belts, and hats,
But the swords got stuck?
Ah, so nice to be Tamed --
Never again the same.
What style of Wild do you
Think one could retain?
Being tamed would just be aces,
If one could keep some Wild, in traces.
Allow me to make a
Socratic suggestion:
That you pursue the lowly
Art of the question.
Showing you love knowing
More than you love learning
Shows only that you're not
Discerning, and lack requisite
Yearning to find the Truth.
Sucess is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory
As he defeated -- dying --
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
They say jungles are chaotic.
I find them as silent
As the world that is aquatic...
Though no less violent.
Someone would like to have you for her child
but you are mine.
Someone would like to rear you on a costly mat
but you are mine.
Someone would like to place you on a camel blanket
but you are mine.
I have you to rear on a torn old mat.
Someone would like to have you as her child
but you are mine.
NOTE: I have no specific author or translator information for this poem. (The former may not be surprising as it may be lost to history.) At any rate, my source is Classic Poems to Read Aloud, an anthology selected by James Berry (1995; Kingfisher Publications,) and it was titled “Lullaby.” That book cites a Cambridge University Press volume entitled African Poetry, edited by Ulli Beier, as its source.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 