Psalm XVII: Death-Warnings
I looked upon my native country's walls,
if once they were strong, now they were decayed,
fatigued by time's inevitable race,
by which their former valor now must fade.
I went out to the fields; I saw the sun
drink up the brooks now freed from winter's ice,
and cattle of the mountain grumbling,
which with its shadows stole from day the light.
I went into my house; I saw that, stained,
it was just rubble of an ancient room;
my walking stick, more bowed and bearing less.
I saw my sword was overcome with age,
and nothing left on which to fix my glance
that was not a reminder now of death.
Translated by Translated by Alix Ingber
I saw the ramparts of my native land
One time so strong, now dropping decay,
Their strength destroyed by this new age's way
That has worn out and rotted what was grand.
I went into the fields; there I could see
The sun drink up the waters new thawed;
And on the hills the moaning cattle pawed,
Their miseries robbed the light of day for me.
I went into my house; I saw how spotted,
Decaying things made that old home their prize;
My withered walking-staff had come to bend.
I felt the age had won; my sword was rotted;
And there was nothing on which to set my eyes
That was not a reminder of the end.
Translated by John Masefield
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