An autumn reflection concerning the wild geese migrating south:
an old story.
He was completely lost,
but then he found a flock
that seemed familiar, like his kin,
so he set out to follow them,
wherever they would bring him.
As they landed by a lake
on their long journey to the south
escaping from the winter cold and hardship,
his new fellows did not seem to care for him
but treated him like nothing, as not one of them,
but like an alien and a stranger,
which he almost found humiliating,
but he had no choice but to endure it.
"Where are you from?" a flying colleague wondered,
but he could not answer, as he did not know his origin.
"But you definitely are not one of us,"
the other said, and he agreed,
accepting that he was an alien;
and as he at least was not thrown out and ostracized,
he stuck to them, continuing to follow them,
as he had nowhere else to fly.
But life with them was difficult;
as he was different, he was treated differently,
often shunned and condescendingly neglected,
could not eat with them but had to find his own
means of support all by himself apart from them,
and it grew worse, as more and more they showed
he was an undesirable, an awkward and unpleasant outsider,
and he blamed his white feathers for the inconvenience,
as all the other geese were grey; and there was nothing
he could do about his natural involuntary costume.
Finally they told him straight: "You are not wanted here,
you are too different, too superior, too handsome
and too good for us." Another put it more politely:
"We are sorry, but you are too much of an outsider,
too idiosyncratic and too much your own,
and we don't understand you nor why you persist
in sticking to us, although anyone can see
you are not one of us." So he had nothing else to do
than to depart and go entirely on his own.
He found a lake to rest by, and as he went down to land
he noticed a small group of other birds
with long necks swimming in the search for food
but in the same white shrouds as he.
He ventured to approach them, asking them politely,
"I lost my flock. May I join yours?"
They answered him at once: "But, brother,
you are one of us. Where have you been?"
"I have been lost, deserted and thrown out by the wild geese."
"But you are not a goose. Have you not seen yourself,
have you not in the mirror of the water found yourself?"
For the first time he ventured to out of the water take a look
and found that he was just like those white gentlemen around him,
"And what do you call, then, such a hopeless alien as me?"
"You are one of the noblest of all birds,
the most accomplished in your purity and whiteness,
and if you were left alone, abandoned and rejected,
that enobled you the more and made you worthy of our company
in natural and splendid pride to shine forever
more idealized and sung and dreamed about
than any other bird by poets."
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 625 times
Written on 2018-10-21 at 10:51
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an old story.
Wild Geese
He was completely lost,
but then he found a flock
that seemed familiar, like his kin,
so he set out to follow them,
wherever they would bring him.
As they landed by a lake
on their long journey to the south
escaping from the winter cold and hardship,
his new fellows did not seem to care for him
but treated him like nothing, as not one of them,
but like an alien and a stranger,
which he almost found humiliating,
but he had no choice but to endure it.
"Where are you from?" a flying colleague wondered,
but he could not answer, as he did not know his origin.
"But you definitely are not one of us,"
the other said, and he agreed,
accepting that he was an alien;
and as he at least was not thrown out and ostracized,
he stuck to them, continuing to follow them,
as he had nowhere else to fly.
But life with them was difficult;
as he was different, he was treated differently,
often shunned and condescendingly neglected,
could not eat with them but had to find his own
means of support all by himself apart from them,
and it grew worse, as more and more they showed
he was an undesirable, an awkward and unpleasant outsider,
and he blamed his white feathers for the inconvenience,
as all the other geese were grey; and there was nothing
he could do about his natural involuntary costume.
Finally they told him straight: "You are not wanted here,
you are too different, too superior, too handsome
and too good for us." Another put it more politely:
"We are sorry, but you are too much of an outsider,
too idiosyncratic and too much your own,
and we don't understand you nor why you persist
in sticking to us, although anyone can see
you are not one of us." So he had nothing else to do
than to depart and go entirely on his own.
He found a lake to rest by, and as he went down to land
he noticed a small group of other birds
with long necks swimming in the search for food
but in the same white shrouds as he.
He ventured to approach them, asking them politely,
"I lost my flock. May I join yours?"
They answered him at once: "But, brother,
you are one of us. Where have you been?"
"I have been lost, deserted and thrown out by the wild geese."
"But you are not a goose. Have you not seen yourself,
have you not in the mirror of the water found yourself?"
For the first time he ventured to out of the water take a look
and found that he was just like those white gentlemen around him,
"And what do you call, then, such a hopeless alien as me?"
"You are one of the noblest of all birds,
the most accomplished in your purity and whiteness,
and if you were left alone, abandoned and rejected,
that enobled you the more and made you worthy of our company
in natural and splendid pride to shine forever
more idealized and sung and dreamed about
than any other bird by poets."
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 625 times
Written on 2018-10-21 at 10:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
