LUSTRA OF EZRA POUND
Tenzone
Will people accept them?
(i.e. these songs).
As a timorous wench from a centaur
(or a centurion),
Already they flee, howling in terror.
Will they be touched with the verisimilitudes?
Their virgin stupidity is untemptable.
I beg you, my friendly critics,
Do not set about to procure me an audience.
I mate with my free kind upon the crags;
the hidden recesses
Have heard the echo of my heels,
in the cool light,
in the darkness.
The Condolence
A mis soledades voy,
De mis soledades vengo,
Porque por andar conmigo
Mi bastan mis pensamientos.
Lope de Vega.
O my fellow sufferers, songs of my youth,
A lot of asses praise you because you are “virile,”
We, you, I! We are “Red Bloods”!
Imagine it, my fellow sufferers—
Our maleness lifts us out of the ruck,
Who’d have foreseen it?
O my fellow sufferers, we went out under the trees,
We were in especial bored with male stupidity.
We went forth gathering delicate thoughts,
Our “fantastikon” delighted to serve us.
We were not exasperated with women,
for the female is ductile.