The Field-Watcher When in the shadows of the passing day A seat is found, asleep in calm Soundness, as activity of the mind Cease, and the slow and wavy dreams Of reality vanish by timeless Art, he who observes the secrets Of the fast-forgotten world finds purpose Insensible to sleep, remnant Of future life. The fullness of the stars Softly infuse the distant sky With rays of obscure light, the horizon Ever holds the dawn in glimmer. Douglas Thornton 2018
We have left the solstice behind and our days are now guided by declining light and the heat of summer. Let us take a moment then to step toward the pleasures of another world and warm ourselves with poetry. Please scroll down or click on the following link to read the new translation: A Translation of André Chénier’s ‘Elegy XX’ by Douglas Thornton Art, feeble interpretation Of the soul! Art and only verse, While the heart alone is poet! Oppressive to the fruitful mind Are those adornments, which despite Themselves, hide within such words As truth and surety commit To thought, the loss of thought itself. The heart speaks, genius writes: master To obey, his hand turns divine, But only if loved and happy, Freed of torment, only if joy Light-hearted and ardent youth spread Across his face their beaming glow, Will his verse, as clear as amber, Or as flowers blush, find renewed With their fairest looks, a sweetness To the world, and in ripe old age A guide. But m