Pan
Long time agone in Arcady, across the fields of Arcady,
Strode Father Pan a-piping to the shepherds in the glade,
While fauns with roses garlanded danced gayly to his Melody,
And nymphs came trooping merrily to frolic as he played.
The shepherd folk of Arcady forsook their flocks with rustic glee
To follow in the wood god's train across the scented mead.
The violets and daffodils in rhythmic time swayed lazily,
While Father Pan adown the field went piping on his reed.
But now there stands a large hotel where once were fields of asphodel,
And all night long in Arcady the blaring trombones play.
And there Pan plays the saxophone, the clarinet and traps as well,
For Father Pan, where once he ruled, plays in a cabaret.
He sways his body wearily in cadence with the melody
And dreams of spring in Arcady — the only dreams he has.
The wild-eyed dancers leap and whirl in corybantic revelry.
The gods are gone from Arcady and Pan is playing jazz.
Strode Father Pan a-piping to the shepherds in the glade,
While fauns with roses garlanded danced gayly to his Melody,
And nymphs came trooping merrily to frolic as he played.
The shepherd folk of Arcady forsook their flocks with rustic glee
To follow in the wood god's train across the scented mead.
The violets and daffodils in rhythmic time swayed lazily,
While Father Pan adown the field went piping on his reed.
But now there stands a large hotel where once were fields of asphodel,
And all night long in Arcady the blaring trombones play.
And there Pan plays the saxophone, the clarinet and traps as well,
For Father Pan, where once he ruled, plays in a cabaret.
He sways his body wearily in cadence with the melody
And dreams of spring in Arcady — the only dreams he has.
The wild-eyed dancers leap and whirl in corybantic revelry.
The gods are gone from Arcady and Pan is playing jazz.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.