Edwin Morgan, 'The Unspoken'

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The Unspoken

When the troopship was pitching round the Cape
in '41, and there was a lull in the night uproar of
seas and winds, and a sudden full moon
swung huge out of the darkness like the world it is,
and we all crowded into the wet deck, leaning on
the rail, our arms on each other's shoulders,
gazing at the savage outcrop of great Africa.
and Tommy Cosh started singing 'Mandalay' and
we joined in with our raucous chorus of the
unforgettable song,
and the dawn came up like thunder like that
moon drawing the water of our yearning
though we were going to war, and left us exalted,
that was happiness,
but it is not like that.

( When the television newscaster said... )

Rainer Maria Rilke, 'The Panther'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

by Rainer Maria Rilke