I march


I march with my face turned windward,
In my pocket – a page from a book;
I will go where Fate walks unhindered
Amid birdsong and silvering brooks.

Rejecting both mankind and beast,
In the jungle, a wigwam my home,
Alone with one God I will feast,
One I will create of my own.

– 0 –

This is a loose translation from a Russian poem the author and provenance of which I have not been able to identify. It was one of my father’s favourites and I sometimes wonder if he wrote it – it’s exactly the sort of thing he would write, or perhaps it’s just a philosophy he always followed.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s