September 23rd, 2009
|02:21 pm - Marco Polo - a poem|
A poem I am working on, part of a sequence which may or may not work out, called 'The Impassable Desert' or something like that.
When a man, riding through the desert by night,
Becomes separated from his companions
As he searches in the darkness,
He may hear spirit voices
Calling him by name.
If these voices lure him from his path
He may never regain his way.
Sometimes, in the night, a traveller will hear a noise
Like the clattering of a great company of riders far away,
If he believes that this is the sound of his companions,
If he leaves the road and rides towards the noise,
When daylight comes he will realize his mistake.
He will be lost in the empty desert.
Others there were, crossing the desert,
That saw a great host of men approaching
And fled from them, thinking they were robbers,
And these too lost their way and perished.
Even by daylight men may hear spirit voices,
Also the sounds of instruments,
For this reason when you travel the desert
Ride always in close company.
Before you go to sleep, set up a sign
Showing the direction in which you must go tomorrow
And round the necks of all your beasts fasten little bells,
So that by following their tinkling, you do not stray from the path.