I Give You Thanks My God / I Thank You God - Bernard Dadie

Here are two versions of translations Bernard Dadie's poem with similar titles  I Thank You God / I Give You Thanks My God  --- read and enjoy.

 I THANK YOU GOD – BERNARD DADIE

I thank you God for creating me black,

For making of me 

Porter of all sorrows,

Setting on my head

The world.

 

I wear the Centaur’s hide

And I have carried the World since the first morning.

 

White is a colour for special occasions

Black the colour for every day

And I have carried the World since the first evening. 

 

I am glad 

Of the shape of my head

Made to carry the World,

Content

With the shape of my nose

That must snuff every wind of the World

Pleased

With the shape of my legs

Ready to run all the heats of the World.

 

I thank you God for creating me black

For making of me

Porter of all sorrows.

 

Thirty-six swords have pierced my heart,

Thirty-six fires have burnt my body.

And my blood on all calvaries has reddened the snow,

And my blood at every dawn has reddened all nature.

 

Still, I am 

Glad to carry the World,

Glad of my short arms

of my long legs

of the thickness of my lips.

 

I thank you God for creating me black.

White is a colour for special occasions

Black the colour for every day

And I have carried the World since the dawn of time.

And my laugh over the World, through the night, creates

The Day.

 

I thank you God for creating me black.

 

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I GIVE YOU THANKS MY GOD – BERNARD DADIE

(translated by La Ronde des Jours)

 

I Give you thanks my God for having created me black

For having made of 

The total of all sorrows,

and set upon my head

the World.

 

I wear the livery of the Centaur

And I carry the World since the first morning.

 

 

White is colour improvised for an occasion

Black, the colour of all days

And I carry the World since the first night.

 

I am happy

With the shape of my head

fashioned to carry the World,

satisfied with the shape of my nose,

Which should breathe all the air of the World,

happy

with the form of my legs

prepared to run through all the stages of the World.

 

I give you my thanks my God, for having created me black,

for having made of 

the total of all sorrows.

Thirty-six swords have pierced my heart.

Thirty-six brands have burned my body,

And my blood on all the calvaries had reddened the snow

And my blood from all the east has reddened all nature.

And yet I am

Happy to carry the World,

Content with my short arms,

with my long legs,

with the thickness of my lips.

 

I give you thanks my God for having created me black,

White is colour for an occasion,

Black the colour of all days

And I carry the World since the morning of time.

And my laughter in the night brought forth day over

the world.

I give you thanks my God for having created me black.

 

                                 -----

 

I Give You Thanks My God / I Thank You God -- Bernard Dadie

 

Bernard Dadie’s poem “I Give You Thanks My God” / “I Thank You God” is a beautiful and thought-provoking anthem for black pride and their sufferings. The poem allegorically weaves around biblical, historical, and mythical tales.

 

Bernard Dadie is representing the entire black race to give his thanks to God for having made black men the bearers of the world’s sorrow. The poem is a symbolic assertion of the history of forced service / slavery and suppression that the black race has endured since “the first morning” and “the first night” of creation. 

 

“God called the light “day”, and the darkness He called “night”. And there was evening, and there was morning — the first day (Genesis 1:3)

 

From the origin of human race, the black men are made “the total of all sorrows” reveals that the biblical allusion to Jesus Christ as a man of all sufferings. 

 

“He was despised, and rejected by others; a man of suffering, and familiar with pain, like one from whom people hide their faces, he was despised, and we held him in low esteem”. (Isaiah 53:3)

 

The poem “I Give You Thanks My God”/ “I Thank You god” is an apt and right way in comparing the black man to Jesus Christ bearing the weight of “The World” on his head in the livery of a Centaur, a mythological living being half-man, half-horse.

 

I am happy

with the shape of my head 

fashioned to carry the World,

satisfied with the shape of my nose,

which should breathe all the air of the world,

happy

with the form of my legs 

prepared to run through all the stages of the World

 

Bernard Dadie is pleased and proud to be a black man that they have been so formed to help him bear the total of all sorrows and sufferings and prepared to run through all the stages of the world. In all generations of human evolution, the black man has been a crucial role-player, leaving his footprints in the entire human history.

 

Thirty-six swords have pierced my heart.

Thirty-six brands have burned my body,

And my blood on all the calvaries has reddened the snow

And my blood from all the east has reddened nature. 

And yet I am

Happy to carry the World,

Content with my short arms, 

with my long legs,

with the thickness of my lips.

 

 Thirty-six swords have pierced my heart is very similar to the Christ on the cross where a spear thrust into his side. 

 

“But he was pierced for our transgressions” (Isaiah 53:5)

 

Thirty-six brands have burnt my body proved that he is a victim of all types of exploitations, a slave of more than one owner, eligible to be trampled by all. Like Christ whose blood reddened the snow of all calvary, the hill outside Jerusalem on which Christ was crucified, similarly the Blackman’s blood reddened the snow of the foreign lands in ruthless crimes of slavery and colonialism.  

 

Yet, Dadie is thankful to God for creating his race black because the white is only colour for an occasion but black is the colour of all days. He laughs in the night with his heart content hopefully that this laughter brings the strength to defeat the burden of his oppression.

 

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comments written by mastanappa puletipalli 

 

The Supreme Essence of Bhagavad Gita

 The Supreme Essence of Bhagavad Gita

 

The Bhagavad Gita is the most revered religious book in Hinduism, widely accepted by people of different religious sentiments for its philosophical and moral relevance. It is considered to be the ‘divine voice of God’ for it is said that one can be spiritually uplifted by contemplating and meditating on the Gita’s text. Having influenced many great thinkers over the years, the Gita is understood to be the ultimate guide with practical instructions, with its relevance understood even in these modern times.

 

The verses in Bhagavad Gita represent Lord Krishna’s speech to Arjuna was the best archer and a Pandava, fighting against the injustice caused by his evil relatives who had taken away his kingdom. Krishna’s words had inspired him as he prepared for the battle. It originally occurred in the Bhisma Parva of the Mahabharata, comprising ancient knowledge, it was first transferred from Surya to King Ishvaku, before disappearing from the sands of time. It later resurfaced in this speech by Lord Krishna 

 

The Gita, or the ‘Song of the God’, is a true scripture of the human race, with wisdom applicable across generations and races. It has inspired millions with its frankly mystical and emotional content and offers something of value to every seeker. It is considered to be a handbook for self-realization and a guide to action. Presented here is a summary of the speech, with the central messages that are universal in nature and touch everyone with their depth of meaning. 

 

When we started off  with the concept of this book, we began with acknowledging the Gita as the greatest speech ever. The lessons in context to its sheer significance in the awakening of humankind compelled us to begin from this speech. Including the entire text would have generated a huge volume, so we have collated the ten summarized teachings that are relevant in all times. Krishna, we believe, is our most revered orator, followed by the wonderful twenty who we have attempted to bring together. We hope each of you would find inspiration in these enriching words.

 

 

THE ESSENCE OF BHAGAVAD GITA

 

·      Why do you worry without cause? Whom do you fear without reason? Who can kill you? The soul is neither born, nor does it die. 

 

·      Whatever happened, happened for the good; whatever is happening, is happening for the good; whatever will happen, will also happen for the good only, You need not have any regrets for the past. You need not worry for the future. The present is happening. 

 

·      What did you lose that you cry about? What did you bring with you, which you think have lost? What did you produce, which you think got destroyed? You did not bring anything. Whatever you have, you received from here. Whatever you have given, you have given only here. Whatever you took, you took from God. Whatever you gave, you gave to him. You came empty handed, you will leave empty handed. What is yours today, belonged to someone else yesterday, and will belong to someone else the after tomorrow. You are mistakenly enjoying the thought that his is yours. It is this false happiness that is the cause of your sorrows.  

 

·      Change is the law of the universe. What you think of as death, is indeed life. In one instance you can be a millionaire, and in the other instance you can be steeped in poverty. Yours and mine, big and small – erse these ideas from your mind. Then everything is yours and you belong to everyone.

 

·      This body is not yours, neither are you of the body. The body is made of fire, water, air, earth and ether, and will disappear into these elements. But the soul is permanent – so who are you?

 

·      Dedicate your being to God. He is the one to be ultimately relied upon. Those who know of his support are forever free from fear, worry and sorrow.

 

·      Whatever you do, do it as a dedication to God. This will bring you the tremendous experience of joy and life-freedom forever. 

 

·      Whenever there will be evil, God will take over.

 

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Hunger -- Jayanth Mahapatra

 Hunger – Jayanth Mahapatra

 

It was hard to believe the flesh was heavy on my back.

The fisherman said: will you have her, carelessly,

trailing his nets and nerves, as though his words

sanctified the purpose with which he faced himself.

I saw his white bone thrash his eyes.

 

I followed him across the sprawling sands,

my mind thumping in the flesh’s sling.

Hope lay perhaps in burning the house I lived in.

Silence gripped my sleeves; his body clawed 

at the froth his old nets had dragged up from the seas.

 

In the flickering dark his lean-to opened like a wound.

The wind was I, and the days and nights before.

Palm fronds scratched my skin. Inside the shack

an oil lamp splayed the hours bunched to those walls.

Over and over the sticky soot crossed the space of my mind.

 

I heard him say: my daughter, she’s just turned fifteen…..

Feel her. I’ll be back soon, your bus leaves at nine.

The sky fell on me, and a father’s exhausted wile.

Long and lean, her years were cold as rubber.

She opened her wormy legs wide. I felt the hunger there,

The other one, the fish slithering, turning inside.

 

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 Comments.

Jayanth Mahapatra’s poem “Hunger” is one of the best poems which depicts the true picture of poverty that prevails evidently everywhere in India even after seventy years of Independence. At the surface level ‘hunger’ is utter shortage of food in poor communities that leads to gross violation of values and morals that have been set by privileged people.  Jayanth Mahapatra’s poem ‘Hunger’ deals with two kinds of hunger, one is ‘hunger for food’ and another is ‘hunger for sexual gratification’.  

 

The quest for fulfilment of fisherman’s hunger for food leads to pimp his own daughter with gross violation of morals and traditional values to a person who is hunger for sexual desire. The values have no place in such an utterly degraded human plight. The father’s pimping of his own daughter is a condemnation not of the father but of the society where such tragedy takes place. The title of the poem “Hunger” has relevance to the existing predicament of the poverty in the society. When the agony and the suffering become intolerable to a weak spirited person such person tends to surrender to inhumanity. It could have happened on the poverty-ridden sands of any beach in India.

 

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Your Attention, Please -- Peter Porter

Your Attention, Please – Peter Porter

 

the polar DEW has just warned that 

A nuclear rocket strike of 

At least one thousand megatons

Has been launched by the enemy

Directly at our major cities.

This announcement will take

Two and a quarter minutes to make,

You therefore have a further

Eight and a quarter minutes

To comply with the shelter

Requirements published in the Civil

Defence Code— section Atomic Attach.

A specially shortened Mass

Will be broadcast at the end

Of this announcement—

Protestant and Jewish services

Will begin simultaneously—

Select your wavelength immediately

According to instructions

In the Defence Code. Do not

Take well-loved pets (including birds)

into your shelter— they will consume

Fresh air, Leave the old and bed-

ridden, you can do nothing for them.

Remember to press the sealing

Switch when everyone is in 

The shelter. Set the radiation

Aerial, turn on the Geiger barometer.

Turn off your Television now.

Turn off your radio immediately

The Services end. At the same time

Secure explosion plugs in the ears

Of each member of your family. Take 

Down your plasma flasks. Give your children

The pills marked one and two

In the C. D. green container, then put 

Them to bed. Do not break

The inside airlock seals until

The radiation all Clear shows

(Watch for the cuckoo in your

Perplex panel), or your district

Touring Doctor rings your bell.

If before this, your air becomes

Exhausted or if any of your family

Is critically injured, administer

The capsules marked ‘Valley Forge’

(Red pocket in No. 1 Survival Kit)

For painless death. (Catholics

Will have been instructed by their priests

What to do in this eventuality.)

This announcement is ending. Our President

Has already given orders for 

Massive retaliation— it will be 

Decisive. Some of us may die.

Remember, statistically

It is not likely to be you.

All flags are flying fully dressed 

On Government buildings— the sun is shining

We are all in the hands of God.

Whatever happens happens by His Will. 

Now go quickly to your shelters.

 

                   -----

  Your Attention, Please – Peter Porter

 

Peter Porter’s poem “Your Attention, Please” reflects the disarray and disastrous situation of  contemporary times. It echoes the theme of death, division and decline as does in the poems “An Exequy, “The Delegate”, “The Easiest Room in Hell” etc. Peter porter always juxtaposed the power of art against the degrading powers of applied science and technology. In the famous and often published “Two Minute warning”, the warning stands not as a forewarning for those people alone, rather it is a pointer for humanity in general. It is a reminder to man who is cutting of the branch on which he is sitting. Immersed in a world of money, material, and munitions, human values have shown a marked deterioration. In an era of competition, Time, and Destruction reign supreme. This becomes obvious when the poet repeats “two and a quarter minute” and “eight and quarter minute.” We are reminded of the futility of life as in Philip Larkin’s “Ambulances”. In an ironical stance, “a specially shortened mass in telecast” to signify the corrosion of spirituality. The announcement says that Protestant and Jewish services will begin simultaneously. It suggests, how in the face of death, all communal rivalries vanish into the thin air.    

 

However, only human life is valued at least slightly here, for, people are asked to abandon their pets as “they will consume fresh air”. The Homo Sapiens (human beings) are content with the assumption that the “fresh air” is solely theirs. The callousness of the contemporary generation is revealed in their disregard for the old and the bed-ridden— the rule is that they HAVE to be left behind. The capsules marked “Valley Forge” survival kit in red pocket No.1 is a medicine for painless death drives home the paranoiac sense of victimization, meaninglessness of life and pointlessness leads to a sense of nihilism. 

 

In a satiric tone, the poet ascertains that the President has already given orders for Mass retaliation. The decision is decisive”. The ordinary citizen has no say in this matter. Nor do the military personnel involved. This proves to be very significant in the modern-day context, where America plays Big Brother role to all the other nations. Under authoritative rule, “human beings have lost their individuality”. It is unlikely to be “you”. All flags are fully dressed on Government buildings where power reigns supreme. 

 

There is also the conflict between religiosity and self-love that the poet projects with pungent irony. The announcer asks them to administer pills to have a painless death and thereafter the Catholics will be instructed by the priest what to do in such an eventuality. However, this is suicide or the Eternal Sin for the Catholics, and the mention of a Catholic Priest seeing to their final rites in outright obnoxious.   

 

The superfluity of advanced science and technology is stressed here. The nuclear weapon is itself a child of science and technology. Nevertheless, the helplessness of science in the face of calamity caused by itself is made explicit here. The omnipresence of science is reinforced by devices like the Geiger Barometer, Radio, Valley Forges, Plasma flask, Television, Radiation Aerial. They enhance the theme of the victory of science over the Art and Life. The poem is therefore a harsh indictment on the race for power politics and amassing of weapons of mass-destruction in the modern times. The best way to win a war is to prevent it. Peter Porter asserts: “The truth is a story forcing me to tell it. It is not my story or my truth.” It is an eternal truth that has its foundation rooted in humanity.

 

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edited.

(we use the material for educational purpose only)  

Ode on A Grecian Urn -- John Keats

 Ode on A Grecian Urn – John Keats

 

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,

Sylvan historians, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

 

Ah, happy, happy boughs! That cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

Forever piping songs of ever new;

More happy love! More happy, happy love!

For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,

Forever panting, and forever young;

All breathing human passion for above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

 

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, 

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

 

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! With brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’   — that is all 

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

 

                              ----- 

 

 

 

 

 

The Chimney-Sweeper's Complaint -- Mary Alcock

 The Chimney-Sweeper’s Complaint – Mary Alcock

 

A Chimney-sweeper’s boy am I;

Pity my wretched fate!

Ah, turn your eyes; ’twould[mp1]  draw a tear,

Knew you my helpless state.

 

Far from my home, no parents I

Am ever doomed[mp2]  to see;

My master, should I sue to [mp3] him,

He’d flog the skin from me.

 

Ah, dearest madam, dearest sir,

Have pity on my youth;

Though black, covered o’ver with rags,

I tell you naught[mp4]  but truth.

 

Me feeble limbs, benumbed with cold,

Totter[mp5]  beneath the sack,

Which, ’ere [mp6] the morning dawn appears

Is loaded on my back.

 

My legs you see are burnt and bruised,

My feet are galled[mp7]  by stones,

My flesh for lack of food is gone,

I’m little else but bones.

 

Yet still my master makes me work,

Nor spares me day or night;

His ’prentice[mp8]  boy he says I am,

And he will have his right.

 

‘Up to the highest top,’ he cries,

‘There call out Chimney-sweep!’

With panting heart and weeping eyes,

Trembling I upwards creep.

 

But stop! No more – I see him come;

Kind sir, remember me!

Oh, could I hide me underground,

How thankful should I be!

 

                     -----

 

 

 

 

---

 [mp1]it would

 [mp2]destined

 [mp3]appeal to

 [mp4]nothing

 [mp5]walk in a shaky way that looks as if you are about to fall

 [mp6]before

 [mp7]injured, hurt 

 [mp8]apprentice (agree to work for a period of time and often for low payment)

Song of Radha, The Milkmaid - Sarojini Naidu

Song of Radha, the Milkmaid – Sarojini Naidu

 

I carried my curds to the Mathura fair…

How softly the heifers were lowing…

I wanted to cry, “Who will buy

These curds that is white as the clouds in the sky

When the breezes of Shravan are blowing?”

But my heart was so full of your beauty, Beloved,

They laughed as I Cried without knowing:

Govinda! Govinda!

Govinda! Govinda!

How softly the river was flowing!

I carried the pots to the Mathura tide…

How gaily the rowers were rowing!

My comrades called, “Ho! Let us dance, let us sing

And wear saffron garments to welcome the spring.

And pluck the new buds that are blowing.”

But my heart was so full of your music, Beloved,

They mocked when I cried without knowing:

Govinda! Govinda!

Govinda! Govinda!

How gaily the river was flowing!

I carried my gifts to the Mathura shrine…

How brightly the torches were glowing!

I folded my hands at the altars to pray

“O shining ones guard us by night and by day” –

And loudly the conch shells were blowing.

But my heart was so lost in your worship, Beloved,

They were worth when I cried without knowing:

Govinda! Govinda!

Govinda! Govinda!

How bright the river was flowing!

 

------ 

 

Death of a Salesman – Arthur Miller

 Death of a Salesman – Arthur Miller 

 

Willy Loman is a salesman living in New York City in the late 1940’s. He lives with his wife, Linda, in the same house for the last twenty-five years. The house once set apart from other houses, now it is surrounded by apartment buildings, which makes Willy feel closed in. 

 

Willy is having trouble in concentrating on driving and often makes mistakes such as crossing the white line, driving off the road, and running red lights, while stopping for green lights. He has begun to talk to himself more and more, which causes concern for Linda. He, at the beginning of the play, has come home from a business trip because he has had trouble with his driving. He is also concerned, because his sons are not progressing in the business world the way he had hoped they would. His first son Happy does have a job and lives in his own apartment, but his second son, Biff, rambles from job to job, as a farmhand, never making much money. 

 

Willy has been demoted from a salaried employee to a commission employee at his job. This means he makes less money to support himself and his wife. This combined with the constant driving and lackluster sales, causes Willy so much stress, that he begins to hallucinate. He thinks he is living in an earlier time in his life. He speaks to people who aren’t there, and he disturbs his friend, Charley, who come over to play cards with Willy. During the game Willy thinks his dead brother, Ben, is in the room with them. He is talking to Ben and Charley at the same time, which causes Charley and Willy to have a disagreement about the card game, Charley leaves, but Willy is still talking to Ben asking him how he made his fortune. Ben had gone to Africa and worked in the diamond mines; this is how he became rich. Willy also needs Ben to tell him he is proud of Willy and his sons. During this hallucination the boys are teenagers and Biff is the sports star at his school. Willy sees a very bright future for his son, but in reality, this does not come to pass. Willy is not as proud of Happy, who does all he can to garner some attention from his father. He is constantly telling his dad about the weight he has lost, but Willy instead of praising his son, tells him more ways in which to lose weight. 

 

Biff and Happy are surprised at the turn their father has taken. Happy knew his father would often talk to himself but did not know he was so loud about it and how often it occurred. Biff, meanwhile, had no idea his father was behaving in this manner. Now their mother tells them the car accidents Willy has been having, are in fact attempts at suicide. The boys agree to try to stay closer to home and start a business together. Biff decides to ask his former boss for a loan to help start the new business. 

 

At the beginning of act two. Willy and Linda are full of hope for their family’s future. Willy is going to talk to his boss, Howard, and try to change his job from that of traveling salesman to floor salesman in the store. They are also hopeful about Biff’s and Happy’s future business venture. If Biff can receive the loan from his former employer, then it will mean a bright future for the boys. Biff at age 34, needs to settle down and make a career for himself, he sees that and so does his parents. 

 

Willy tries to talk to Howard about the job change, but Howard tells him he just doesn’t have a position open for him in the store. He needs Willy to keep selling to the clients in the New England area. Willy becomes angry with Howard and starts to yell at him. Howard after trying to calm Willy down, eventually has to fire him. 

 

Biff is left waiting in his former boss, Bill Oliver’s office for six hours and he only sees Bill, as he is leaving for the day. It is clear either doesn’t remember Biff or doesn’t want to speak to him. Biff, after all did steal some basketballs from Bill’s business. Biff in a pique of anger enters Bill’s office and steals his pen. As he is making his escape from Bill’s office, he realizes he and Bill never did have a real relationship and he has made a mess of his life. 

 

Biff and Happy have made plans to meet their father in a restaurant to celebrate the anticipated good news from the day. Instead, it is all bad news and Willy is not willing to accept the truth from Biff. The two boys meet some girls and leave Willy alone in the restaurant, which causes Willy to have another hallucination about a woman he had used to cheat on Linda. 

 

At home, Linda is furious with the boys for leaving their father behind at the restaurant. She tells them it would be better if they left and never returned, because they cause so much stress for their father. Willy and Biff finally tell each other how they feel, which makes Willy understand that his son loves him. Willy decides the insurance money, or twenty-five thousand dollars would benefit his family. He talks to Ben and decides to kill himself. Afterward, Linda has a hard time dealing with Willy’s death. She cannot bring herself to cry, because she keeps on waiting for him to return from another business trip. She is sad, because finally the house is paid for and now, she does not have a husband to share it with.

 

This play shows how false perceptions of ourselves and others can bring about the ruin of a person. If a life is based on a lie, then eventually the truth can be too much to endure.

 

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All The World's A Stage - William Shakespeare

 All The World's a Stage -- William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players

They have their exits and their entrances;

and one man in his time plays many parts, 

His acts being seven ages. As, first the infant

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing  like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then the Soldier

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard.

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. and then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean slipper'd pantaloon, 

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well saved , a world too wide

for his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

                                 -------