Donald Traxler's Poetry

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Für Elise.

We must honor all the lives that we have lived. They have made us who we are.

Song of Myself 51

by Walt Whitman

The past and present wilt--I have fill'd them, emptied them,

And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?

Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,

(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute

longer.)

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with

his supper?

Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

Ko te wairua te mea nui,

enari te puoro, te kanikani,

me nga wahine ataahua

he pai hoki.

The Spirit is the most important,

but music, dance,

and beautiful women

are also good.

He maha nga orana,

reo maha.

Ko tahi fanau tanata.

There are many lives,

many languages.

One human family.