Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts
and laugh with their eyes:
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice-block-cold eyes
search behind my shadow.
There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts:
but that’s gone, son.
Now they shake hands without hearts
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.
‘Feel at home!’ ‘Come again’:
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice-
for then I find doors shut on me.
So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses – homeface,
officeface, streetface, hostface,
cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.
And I have learned too
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say,’Goodbye’,
when I mean ‘Good-riddance’:
to say ‘Glad to meet you’,
without being glad; and to say ‘It’s been
nice talking to you’, after being bored.
But believe me, son.
I want to be what I used to be
when I was like you. I want
to unlearn all these muting things.
Most of all, I want to relearn
how to laugh, for my laugh in the mirror
shows only my teeth like a snake’s bare fangs!
So show me, son,
how to laugh; show me how
I used to laugh and smile
once upon a time when I was like you.
In once upon a time poet speaks about men's way of living as they become adult. Everything becomes formality and people wear masks. Poet wants to become original as he was in childhood.
Poet is talking with his son. Poet says that once upon a time they used to laugh with their hearts and eyes. Here once upon a time means in childhood. In childhood people do not act. But now as they have grown they only laugh with teeth. Before people were shaking hands with their hearts but now they shake hands without heart. And they keep relation with them who have money. People say feel at home, come again only for formality but they do not like when someone really come again.
Poet says that after experiencing these things he also have learnt to wear many faces like dresses. Office face, homeface, streetface, hostface. Poet has learned to laugh only with teeth and shake hands without heart. He has learned to say glad to meet you without being glad and to say nice talking to you after being bored. But poet wants to be as he once was. So he asks his son to show him how to laugh and smile.
A man's destination is his own village, His own fire, and his wife's cooking; To sit in front of his own door at sunset And see his grandson, and his neighbour's grandson Playing in the dust together. Scarred but secure, he has many memories Which return at the hour of conversation, (The warm or the cool hour, according to the climate) Of foreign men, who fought in foreign places, Foreign to each other. A man's destination is not his destiny, Every country is home to one man And exile to another. Where a man dies bravely At one with his destiny, that soil is his. Let his village remember. This was not your land, or ours: but a village in the Midlands, And one in the Five Rivers, may have the same graveyard. Let those who go home tell the same story of you: Of action with a common purpose, action None the less fruitful if neither you nor we Know, unt...
Hi
ReplyDeleteAmazing thanks you man