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BY G. K. CHESTERTON
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
[Source: The Collected Poems of G. K. Chesterton (Dodd Mead & Company, 1927)]
The Donkey
by Anonymous
I saw a donkey
One day old,
His head was too big
For his neck to hold;
His legs were shaky
And long and loose,
They rocked and staggered
And weren’t much use.
He tried to gambol
And frisk a bit,
But he wasn’t quite sure
Of the trick of it.
His queer little coat
Was soft and grey,
And curled at his neck
In a lovely way.
His face was wistful
And left no doubt
That he felt life needed
Some thinking about.
So he blundered round
In venturesome quest,
And then lay flat
On the ground to rest.
He looked so little
And weak and slim,
I prayed the world
Might be good to him.
O God, who made me
to trudge along the road
always,
to carry heavy loads
always,
and to be beaten
always!
Give me great courage and gentleness.
One day let somebody understand me --
that I may no longer want to weep
because I can never say what I mean
and they make fun of me.
Let me find a juicy thistle --
and make them give me time to pick it.
And, Lord, one day, let me find again
my little brother of the Christmas crib.
Amen.
[from Prayers from the Ark by Carmen Bernos de Gasztold]
One day old,
His head was too big
For his neck to hold;
His legs were shaky
And long and loose,
They rocked and staggered
And weren’t much use.
And frisk a bit,
But he wasn’t quite sure
Of the trick of it.
His queer little coat
Was soft and grey,
And curled at his neck
In a lovely way.
And left no doubt
That he felt life needed
Some thinking about.
So he blundered round
In venturesome quest,
And then lay flat
On the ground to rest.
And weak and slim,
I prayed the world
Might be good to him.
to trudge along the road
always,
to carry heavy loads
always,
and to be beaten
always!
Give me great courage and gentleness.
One day let somebody understand me --
that I may no longer want to weep
because I can never say what I mean
and they make fun of me.
Let me find a juicy thistle --
and make them give me time to pick it.
And, Lord, one day, let me find again
my little brother of the Christmas crib.
Amen.
Die donkie
Het veulen eener ezelin. Matth. 21:5
Ruig van haar en lank van ore,
Skor van stem en sonder sier,Misontvange, wangebore,
Spotprent van 'n eed'ler dier,
Sware laste, harde slae,
Droë brokke vir my brood -So slyt ek my lewensdae
Tot my onbetreurde dood.
Trots verbrys'ling menigvuldig,
Met my stoere kromme wilStadig stap ek en geduldig,
Swoeg ek, swerf ek, swyg ek stil.
En my naam, die spotbenaming
Van elk' domme kreatuur.Tog - die trotse tot beskaming -
Eenmaal had ek ook my uur.
Toe hosannas bly geklink het
Triomfant'lik aan 'n Vors,
En 'n pronktuig skoon geblink het
Op my rykversierde bors.
Ek ... tot eed'ler diens verkore
Dan die edelste mag vra:
Want my was die eer beskore
Om die Hoogste Las te dra!
[AG Visser]
Perd en donkie
Neels JacksonMet ’n donkie gaan jy nie oorlog toe nie.
Eeue se krygers het pérd opgesaal.
om glorie op die slagveld te gaan haal.
Vir ’n donkie sal jy diens kon vra:
om ’n kar te trek, ’n sak meel te dra …
Met ’n perd kan jy die slinksste vyand jag,
hom inhaal en oorweldig met brute krag.
Op ’n perd kon ’n heerser van weleer
sy meesterskap demonstreer.
Dáár sit die grote Alexander,
Nero, Napoleon en elke ander
Vegtende vors: op die rug van sy ros.
Maar Jesus,
Jesus Christus,
Hy …
Hy het op ’n donkie gery.
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| 'n Ode aan die donkie Klik hier. |
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