POEM

The Old Man Drew the Line

by Carl Rakosi

Carl Rakosi
The old man
                  drew the line
for his son,
                  the executive:
“I don’t want you spending money on me!
(not as long as there are fathers)”,
the line ageless
                         as the independence of time.   
Musters tears
                     and overflows
the inner ear,
                     yet does not matter.
It can not cure frailty.

I seek him
                who will seek me out   
and will believe
                         what I do not believe
(that is my frailty).
                                 “Sit down here with us,”
he says,
            “You don’t have to impress anyone.   
Here is my hand.
                         Your age is of no significance.”
Ah!
      I move closer to his mouth   
and look into his eyes.
                                    I do not avert mine,
there is no reason to,
                                  or retreat   
into a kindly smile.


Ah, companero,
                      you were born
on the wrong day
                         when God was paradoxical.   
You’ll have to
                      find yourself an old dog.

The son of German Jewish parents, Carl Rakosi was born in Berlin in 1903, moving soon to Hungary . . . MORE »

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Before You

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