Beggar Man and Beggar Woman
Conversing
by Rembrandt van Rijn
You'll find me in all weathers beyond the gate,
unsheltered from rain and sun.
Every so often I cradle my right ear
in my right hand.
Then my own voice sounds to me
as no one ever hears it.
Then I can't tell for certain
who is screaming:
me or someone else.
Poets cry out for more important matters.
At times I even close my eyes
so my face can disappear.
The way it lies with its full weight in my hands,
it is almost like rest.
Then no one can think I lack a place
to lay my head.
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The emotional range in this poem, which ends, it seems, in a turn—the compassion of the beggar for those who see him—is quite something, within such a few lines. I feel grateful that this poet cries out for this "important matter": giving voice to the voiceless.
ReplyDeleteIs there a more heart breaking image than the beggar with his face full weight in his hands so that at least he can have a place to lay his head?
ReplyDeleteWhat despair! To close one's eyes so that one's face might disappear. Painful to read; even more painful to remember the faceless millions whose songs are never heard, perhaps never sung.
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