The Walls of Time


In order to write an intelligible phrase,
A parliament of letter doctors must approve
By the grace of a universal legislature,
The laws of good and bad writing whereby
The ink can stain the paper there to dry.

If the comma is in the wrong place, why worry?
You'll never understand anyway, the riddled verse,
Whether it’s by Auden or by Pound who designed
Two worlds for their own comforts by the sheer force
Of personalities possessed mainly of cruelty.

They wanted to reorder the sentiments,
Turn priorities right around for Man who had changed.
Where he was bound he could no longer tell.
When told that he had grown old, he was outraged.
I am Man, the decryer of his own eternal vision.

But how accurate does it have to be
Just to be understood by the next door neighbour?
In those awkward, tender, difficult moments
When it is necessary to ask from him a big favour.
He who finds the necessary words will be a writer.

I face the walls, the walls of time.
I see thin joints that bind the modules of grammar,
The secrets left unknown for the sheer folly
Of translating a billion minds who would stammer
The first syllables of yet another unique language.

Bevagna 28 11 2011