Jokes, Tricks and Revenge: A Prelude in Rhyme

Venture, comrades, I implore you, On the fare I set before you, You will like it more to-morrow, Better still the following day: If yet more you're then requiring, Old success I'll find inspiring, And fresh courage thence will borrow Novel dainties to display.

Please, friends, take a chance on the food I offer you. You will like it more tomorrow, and even more the day after. If you still want more, my past success will inspire me and give me fresh courage to offer new treats.

Weary of Seeking had I grown, So taught myself the way to Find: Back by the storm I once was blown, But follow now, where drives the wind.

I grew tired of searching, So I taught myself how to find. Once the storm blew me back, But now I follow wherever the wind blows.

Where you're standing, dig, dig out: Down below's the Well: Let them that walk in darkness shout: "Down below—there's Hell!"

Where you stand, dig, dig down: Below is the Well: Let those who walk in darkness shout: "Below, there's Hell!"

A. Was I ill? and is it ended? Pray, by what physician tended? I recall no pain endured! B. Now I know your trouble's ended: He that can forget, is cured.

A. Was I sick? Is it over? Tell me, which doctor treated me? I don't remember any pain! B. Now I know you're over it: Anyone who can forget is cured.

Let our virtues be easy and nimble-footed in motion, Like unto Homer's verse ought they to come and to go.

Let our virtues move easily and lightly on their feet, Like Homer's verse, they should come and go.

Stay not on level plain, Climb not the mount too high, But half-way up remain— The world you'll best descry!

Don't stay on the flat plain, Don't climb the mountain too high, But stay halfway up. That's where you'll see the world best!

Attracted by my style and talk You'd follow, in my footsteps walk? Follow yourself unswervingly, So—careful!—shall you follow me.

Drawn to my style and words, Would you follow in my footsteps? Follow yourself without wavering. Only then, take care, will you follow me.

My skin bursts, breaks for fresh rebirth, And new desires come thronging: Much I've devoured, yet for more earth The serpent in me's longing. 'Twixt stone and grass I crawl once more, Hungry, by crooked ways, To eat the food I ate before, Earth-fare all serpents praise!

My skin bursts open for a new birth, And new desires crowd in: I have eaten much, but still the serpent Inside me longs for more earth. Between stone and grass I crawl again, Hungry, along winding paths, To eat the food I ate before, The earth that all serpents love!

My luck's good—I'd make yours fairer, (Good luck ever needs a sharer), Will you stop and pluck my roses?

I'm lucky, and I'd make you luckier, (Good luck always needs someone to share it), Will you stop and pick my roses?

Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger, Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger— Will you stop and pluck my roses?

Often among rocks and thorns you'll linger, Hide and crouch, suck your bleeding finger. Will you stop and pick my roses?

For my good luck's a trifle vicious, Fond of teasing, tricks malicious— Will you stop and pluck my roses?

For my good luck is a little wicked, Fond of teasing and malicious tricks. Will you stop and pick my roses?

Many drops I waste and spill, So my scornful mood you curse: Who to brim his cup doth fill, Many drops must waste and spill— Yet he thinks the wine no worse.

I waste and spill many drops, So you curse my scornful mood: Anyone who fills his cup to the brim must waste and spill many drops, Yet he thinks the wine is no worse for it.

Harsh and gentle, fine and mean, Quite rare and common, dirty and clean, The fools' and the sages' go-between: All this I will be, this have been, Dove and serpent and swine, I ween!

Harsh and gentle, refined and crude, Very rare and common, dirty and clean, A go-between for fools and wise people: I will be all this, and I have been all this, A dove, a snake, and a pig, I suppose!

That eye and sense be not fordone E'en in the shade pursue the sun!

So that your eyes and senses are not worn out, Even in the shade, pursue the sun!

Smoothest ice, A paradise To him who is a dancer nice.

The smoothest ice Is paradise For a skilled dancer.

A feud that knows not flaw nor break, Rather then patched-up friendship, take.

Choose a feud without flaw or break, Rather than a friendship patched up for appearance’s sake.

Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy! "He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.

Rust is needed. Sharpness won't satisfy! "He's too young!" the crowd loves to shout.

"How shall I reach the top?" No time For thus reflecting! Start to climb!

"How do I reach the top?" No time To think about it! Start to climb!

Ask never! Cease that whining, pray! Take without asking, take alway!

Never ask! Please stop whining! Take without asking, always take!

Narrow souls hate I like the devil, Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.

I hate narrow souls like the devil, Souls where neither good nor evil grows.

He shot an empty word Into the empty blue; But on the way it met A woman whom it slew.³

He shot an empty word Into the empty blue; But on the way it met A woman and killed her.³

A twofold pain is easier far to bear Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?

Two pains are much easier to bear Than one. So do you dare to suffer now?

Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick: For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!

Brother, don't be quick to puff yourself up: For a tiny prick will make you burst!

"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!" Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.

"Seize the woman who appeals to your heart!" Man's motto: he does not seize a woman, he steals her.

If I explain my wisdom, surely 'Tis but entangled more securely, I can't expound myself aright: But he that's boldly up and doing, His own unaided course pursuing, Upon my image casts more light!

If I explain my wisdom, I only make it more tangled. I can't explain myself clearly. But someone who acts boldly, Following his own path without help, Sheds more light on my image!

Those old capricious fancies, friend! You say your palate naught can please, I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze, My love, my patience soon will end! Pluck up your courage, follow me— Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink, Swallow it whole, nor pause to think! From your dyspepsia you'll be free!

Those old fickle whims, my friend! You say nothing pleases your taste. I hear you bluster, spit, and wheeze. My love, my patience is almost gone! Take courage and follow me. Here's a fat toad! Now, don't flinch. Swallow it whole without stopping to think! You'll be free of your indigestion!

Many men's minds I know full well, Yet what mine own is, cannot tell. I cannot see—my eye's too near— And falsely to myself appear. 'Twould be to me a benefit Far from myself if I could sit, Less distant than my enemy, And yet my nearest friend's too nigh— 'Twixt him and me, just in the middle! What do I ask for? Guess my riddle!

I know the minds of many men well, Yet what my own mind is, I cannot tell. I cannot see it. My eye is too close, And I see myself falsely. It would help me If I could sit far from myself, Closer than my enemy, But not as close as my nearest friend. Right between my friend and my enemy! What am I asking for? Guess my riddle!

I must ascend an hundred stairs, I must ascend: the herd declares I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?" I must ascend an hundred stairs: All men the part of stair disown.

I must climb a hundred steps, I must climb. The herd says I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?" I must climb a hundred steps: No one wants to be a step.

"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!" Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing! Now comes the test! Keep cool—eyes bright and clear! Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest—fear.

"No path ahead! An abyss and chilling silence!" It's your fault! You were too willing to leave the path! Now comes the test! Stay calm. Keep your eyes bright and clear! You are surely lost if you give in to fear.

See the infant, helpless creeping— Swine around it grunt swine-talk— Weeping always, naught but weeping, Will it ever learn to walk? Never fear! Just wait, I swear it Soon to dance will be inclined, And this babe, when two legs bear it, Standing on its head you'll find.

Look at the baby, crawling helplessly. Pigs around it grunt in pig talk. Always crying, doing nothing but crying, Will it ever learn to walk? Don't worry! Just wait, I swear Soon it will want to dance, And once this baby can stand on two legs, You'll find it standing on its head.

Did I not turn, a rolling cask, Ever about myself, I ask, How could I without burning run Close on the track of the hot sun?

If I did not turn like a rolling barrel, Always spinning around myself, I ask, How could I follow close behind the hot sun Without burning?

Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar, I'd have him high above and far, Or how can he become my star?

Too close, my friend spoils my joy. I would have him high above and far away. Otherwise, how can he become my star?

Lest we for thy bliss should slay thee, In devil's wiles thou dost array thee, Devil's wit and devil's dress. But in vain! Thy looks betray thee And proclaim thy holiness.

So we won't kill you for your bliss, You disguise yourself with the devil's tricks, The devil's wit and the devil's clothes. But it's no use! Your looks betray you And reveal your holiness.

A. He stands and listens: whence his pain? What smote his ears? Some far refrain? Why is his heart with anguish torn? B. Like all that fetters once have worn, He always hears the clinking—chain!

A. He stands and listens. Why is he in pain? What did he hear? A distant song? Why is his heart filled with anguish? B. Like all who have once worn chains, he always hears their clinking!

I hate to follow and I hate to lead. Obedience? no! and ruling? no, indeed! Wouldst fearful be in others' sight? Then e'en thyself thou must affright: The people but the Terror's guidance heed. I hate to guide myself, I hate the fray. Like the wild beasts I'll wander far afield. In Error's pleasing toils I'll roam Awhile, then lure myself back home, Back home, and—to my self-seduction yield.

I hate to follow, and I hate to lead. Obey? No! Rule? No, not that either! Do you want others to fear you? Then you must frighten yourself too: People follow only Terror's lead. I hate to guide myself, and I hate the struggle. Like wild beasts, I'll wander far and wide. I'll roam in Error's pleasant traps For a while, then lure myself back home, Back home, and give in to my own seduction.

They write and write (quite maddening me) Their "sapient" twaddle airy, As if 'twere primum scribere, Deinde philosophari.

They write and write (driving me quite mad) Their airy "wise" nonsense, As if it were first write, then philosophize.

Yes! I manufacture ice: Ice may help you to digest: If you had much to digest, How you would enjoy my ice!

Yes! I make ice: Ice may help you digest: If you had much to digest, How you would enjoy my ice!

My wisdom's A and final O Was then the sound that smote mine ear. Yet now it rings no longer so, My youth's eternal Ah! and Oh! Is now the only sound I hear.⁴

The sound that struck my ears back then Was the beginning and end of my wisdom. But now it no longer sounds that way. The endless Ah! and Oh! of my youth Are now the only sounds I hear.⁴

In yonder region travelling, take good care! An hast thou wit, then be thou doubly ware! They'll smile and lure thee; then thy limbs they'll tear: Fanatics' country this where wits are rare!

Be careful when traveling in that region! If you have any sense, be doubly careful! They'll smile and lure you in, then tear you limb from limb: This is a land of fanatics, where sense is rare!

God loves us, for he made us, sent us here!— "Man hath made God!" ye subtle ones reply. His handiwork he must hold dear, And what he made shall he deny? There sounds the devil's halting hoof, I fear.

God loves us, because he made us and sent us here! "Man made God!" you clever people reply. He must love what he made. And would he deny what he made? I fear I hear the devil's limping hoof.

In sweat of face, so runs the screed, We e'er must eat our bread, Yet wise physicians if we heed "Eat naught in sweat," 'tis said. The dog-star's blinking: what's his need? What tells his blazing sign? In sweat of face (so runs his screed) We're meant to drink our wine!

By the sweat of our faces, so the saying goes, We must always eat our bread. Yet if we listen to wise doctors, "Eat nothing while sweating," they say. The dog star is blinking. What does it want? What does its blazing sign tell us? By the sweat of our faces, so its saying goes, We are meant to drink our wine!

His look bewrays no envy: and ye laud him? He cares not, asks not if your throng applaud him! He has the eagle's eye for distance far, He sees you not, he sees but star on star!

His face shows no envy, and you praise him? He does not care or ask whether your crowd applauds him! He has an eagle's eye for distant things. He does not see you. He sees only star after star!

Brethren, war's the origin Of happiness on earth: Powder-smoke and battle-din Witness friendship's birth! Friendship means three things, you know,— Kinship in luckless plight, Equality before the foe Freedom—in death's sight!

Brothers, war is the source Of happiness on earth: Gun smoke and the noise of battle Mark the birth of friendship! Friendship means three things, you know: A bond in shared misfortune, Equality before the enemy, Freedom in the face of death!

"Rather on your toes stand high Than crawl upon all fours, Rather through the keyhole spy Than through open doors!"

"Better to stand tall on your toes Than crawl on all fours, Better to spy through a keyhole Than look through open doors!"

Renown you're quite resolved to earn? My thought about it Is this: you need not fame, must learn To do without it!

Are you determined to become famous? Here's what I think: You don't need fame. You must learn To live without it!

I an Inquirer? No, that's not my calling Only I weigh a lot—I'm such a lump!— And through the waters I keep falling, falling, Till on the ocean's deepest bed I bump.

Am I a seeker? No, that's not my calling. I just weigh a lot. I'm such a lump! And through the water I keep falling, falling, Until I hit the deepest ocean floor.

"To-day is meet for me, I come to-day," Such is the speech of men foredoomed to stay. "Thou art too soon," they cry, "thou art too late," What care the Immortals what the rabble say?

"Today suits me. I come today," That is what men doomed to stay say. "You are too early," they cry, "you are too late," What do the Immortals care what the rabble say?

The weary shun the glaring sun, afraid, And only care for trees to gain the shade.

The weary avoid the glaring sun, afraid, And care for trees only for their shade.

"He sinks, he falls," your scornful looks portend: The truth is, to your level he'll descend. His Too Much Joy is turned to weariness, His Too Much Light will in your darkness end.

"He is sinking, he is falling," your scornful looks suggest: The truth is, he will descend to your level. His Too Much Joy turns into weariness, His Too Much Light will end in your darkness.

Around my neck, on chain of hair, The timepiece hangs—a sign of care. For me the starry course is o'er, No sun and shadow as before, No cockcrow summons at the door, For nature tells the time no more! Too many clocks her voice have drowned, And droning law has dulled her sound.⁵

Around my neck, on a chain of hair, Hangs a watch, a sign of care. For me, the stars no longer mark the hours, Nor do the sun and shadows as before, Nor does the rooster’s crow call me at the door, For nature no longer tells the time! Too many clocks have drowned out her voice, And droning law has dulled her sound.⁵

Strange to the crowd, yet useful to the crowd, I still pursue my path, now sun, now cloud, But always pass above the crowd!

Strange to the crowd, yet useful to the crowd, I still follow my path, now sun, now cloud, But always pass above the crowd!

She now has wit—how did it come her way? A man through her his reason lost, they say. His head, though wise ere to this pastime lent, Straight to the devil—no, to woman went!

She has wit now. How did she get it? They say a man lost his reason because of her. His head was wise before he gave it to this pastime. It went straight to the devil. No, it went to a woman!

"Oh, might all keys be lost! 'Twere better so And in all keyholes might the pick-lock go!" Who thus reflects ye may as—picklock know.

"Oh, if only all keys were lost! That would be better, And a lockpick could go into every keyhole!" You may recognize anyone who thinks this way as a lockpicker.

I write not with the hand alone, My foot would write, my foot that capers, Firm, free and bold, it's marching on Now through the fields, now through the papers.

I don't write with my hand alone. My dancing foot wants to write too. Firm, free, and bold, it marches on, Now through the fields, now across the page.

Shy, gloomy, when your looks are backward thrust, Trusting the future where yourself you trust, Are you an eagle, mid the nobler fowl, Or are you like Minerva's darling owl?

Shy and gloomy when you look back, Trusting the future as much as you trust yourself, Are you an eagle, among the nobler birds, Or are you like Minerva's beloved owl?

Good teeth and a digestion good I wish you—these you need, be sure! And, certes, if my book you've stood, Me with good humour you'll endure.

I wish you good teeth and good digestion. You will need them, for sure! And if you have put up with my book, You will put up with me in good humor.

"To nature true, complete!" so he begins. Who complete Nature to his canvas wins? Her tiniest fragment's endless, no constraint Can know: he paints just what his fancy pins: What does his fancy pin? What he can paint!

"True to nature, complete!" he begins. Who captures all of Nature on a canvas? Even her smallest fragment is endless and cannot Be contained. He paints only what his imagination chooses: What does his imagination choose? What he can paint!

Glue, only glue to me dispense, The wood I'll find myself, don't fear! To give four senseless verses sense— That's an achievement I revere!

Just give me glue, only glue. I'll find the wood myself, don't worry! To make sense of four senseless verses, That's an achievement I admire!

If to choose my niche precise Freedom I could win from fate, I'd be in midst of Paradise— Or, sooner still—before the gate!

If fate let me choose exactly where to be, I would choose the middle of Paradise. Or, better yet, just outside the gate!

Wide blow your nostrils, and across The land your nose holds haughty sway: So you, unhorned rhinoceros, Proud mannikin, fall forward aye! The one trait with the other goes: A straight pride and a crooked nose.

Your nostrils flare wide, and across The land your nose rules arrogantly. So you, hornless rhinoceros, Proud little man, always fall forward! One trait goes with the other: Straight pride and a crooked nose.

The pen is scratching: hang the pen! To scratching I'm condemned to sink! I grasp the inkstand fiercely then And write in floods of flowing ink. How broad, how full the stream's career! What luck my labours doth requite! 'Tis true, the writing's none too clear— What then? Who reads the stuff I write?

The pen is scratching. Damn the pen! I’m condemned to scratch away! I fiercely grab the inkstand then And write in floods of ink. How broad, how full the stream! How well my work is rewarded! True, the writing isn’t very clear. So what? Who reads the stuff I write?

This man's climbing up—let us praise him— But that other we love From aloft doth eternally move, So above even praise let us raise him, He comes from above!

This man is climbing up. Let us praise him. But the other man we love Moves forever from on high. So let us raise him above even praise. He comes from above!

Your life is half-way o'er; The clock-hand moves; your soul is thrilled with fear, It roamed to distant shore And sought and found not, yet you—linger here!

Your life is halfway over. The clock hand moves, and your soul trembles with fear. It wandered to distant shores, And searched but found nothing, yet you linger here!

Your life is half-way o'er; That hour by hour was pain and error sheer: Why stay? What seek you more? "That's what I'm seeking—reasons why I'm here!"

Your life is halfway over. Every hour was nothing but pain and error. Why stay? What more are you looking for? "That's what I'm looking for, reasons why I'm here!"

Yes, I know where I'm related, Like the flame, unquenched, unsated, I consume myself and glow: All's turned to light I lay my hand on, All to coal that I abandon, Yes, I am a flame, I know!

Yes, I know what I am akin to. Like a flame, unquenched and unsatisfied, I consume myself and glow. Everything I touch turns to light. Everything I leave behind turns to coal. Yes, I know I am a flame!

Foredoomed to spaces vast and far, What matters darkness to the star?⁶

Destined for vast and distant spaces, What does darkness matter to a star?⁶

Roll calmly on, let time go by, Let sorrows pass thee—nations die!

Roll on calmly, let time pass, Let sorrows pass you by. Nations die!

Compassion would but dim the light That distant worlds will gladly sight.

Compassion would only dim the light That distant worlds will gladly see.