cafolini
11-01-2011, 12:29 PM
In concert the cicada balms the field.
What do you say, Marcus Aurelius,
about these old philosophers of the plains?
How poor is your thought!
Soft and tame runs the river.
O’ Socrates! What do you see
in the water, sliding to bitter death?
How poor is your faith!
The petals of the roses fall to mud.
O’ sweet Johnny of God!
What do you see in these glorious leaves?
How small is your heart!
What do you say, Marcus Aurelius,
about these old philosophers of the plains?
How poor is your thought!
Soft and tame runs the river.
O’ Socrates! What do you see
in the water, sliding to bitter death?
How poor is your faith!
The petals of the roses fall to mud.
O’ sweet Johnny of God!
What do you see in these glorious leaves?
How small is your heart!