Image: © H.S
Author: H.S
These poems were written nineteen-hundred years ago on the rocks, trees, and Temple walls of Switzerland’s Jura Mountain, then under Roman occupation.
The poet was Honest Shores, a pagan hermit who begged for food at temples, lectured in the streets and often sang and drank with goatherds in the forested mountains.
Little is known about his life, except that he lived in relative poverty, despite having an education. He might have lived for a time as a tutor in a middle-sized Roman city, as he seems to understand societal ills that assailed the Roman Empire, even during its Golden Age (Cf. “Pax Romana”). However, all of this is speculations taken from the poems themselves.
This new translation of his work, despite being incomplete (This collection only including twenty poems, even though some sources suggest he wrote a thousand) significantly revises and updates the poems for a modern audience. Be not shocked if you see references to modern technology and problems, as the translator took some liberties to adapt old roman references for more contemporary counterparts.
Although he was educated, Honest Shores was derided at the time for using colloquial and vulgar forms of Latin in his poems. This suggests that, although he derided morals of his time, he never took himself too seriously. Likewise, the translator used an idiom that is clear, graceful, and neutral enough to last nineteen-hundred years more.
1
I’m lifting my drink
“The ancient generations
Sowed and Reaped
Until the soil became acidic
Then, they pierced the crust
Extracting the blood
Until the caverns collapsed
Now they send cars into space
Burning metric tons of fuel
The worst is
They lived peacefully
Enjoying the fruits of their labour
But us? We will live to see
The Earth becoming Venus
And with the sky filled with blood and smoke
The ocean licking my mat
And the woods burning
I will receive a message
From my manager that says:
‘Damn that’s crazy… Can you come in though?
We’re short-staffed tonight.’
So here it is
To the UMURANGI Generation!
The generation
That has to watch the world die!”
2
A lone boar
Amongst the woods of Neuchâtel
His fur, dull enough
Attracts no hunters
But healthy enough
So he attracts mates
Compared to others
His stature is small
But he hides in the bushes so well
Never the fighter
He is rather weak
But his tusks are sharp
So others don’t bother fighting him
Living his whole life
Unremarkable, unnoticed
Only when he dies
One may see the jewel
That was inside him
3
The marionette
Wanted to be a real boy
Without realizing that
His incarnation
Would not cut his strings
Even if it did
He would not move anymore
4
Those who pray
Jesus, Mohammad, Buddha
From whence did they come?
Some say “God”
Others say “Dieu”
Others still
Say “Allah”
Those are only words
Vibrations of air
Written names
On blank sheets
Absent of meaning
They’re helpful without being useful
To think them useful
Is to consider
The pointing finger
As the moon
5
Empty woods, no one in sight
Yet hear! The jingle of bells
From deep… Over there!
Filtered by the trees
The slant rays
Shine once more
And the sheep
Bell on his collar
Looks – inquisitive –
At his grass
That became golden
6
So young yet
One of my friends is getting married
He asks me
“When will you marry?”
I ask him
“When will you divorce?”
We both laugh for a different reason
Him: Because I am behind
Me: Because he is in front!
7
My dream house
Has a room
Turned into a library
Hundreds of books on each shelf
An old leather chair
Plants! As numerous as books
The light of the evening
And the wind
Filtered by the evergreen forest
Thus I will travel
Without ever leaving home
8
I settle for a studio
Lone in the empty city
Like the tailor bird
Were it to have the whole grove
It would settle on a single branch
9
Alone on its branch
The crow sings
Watching the people
The cold wind:
The only one who caresses him
10
The hermit drops by
Bringing drunkenness
At the same instant
That the welcomed notifications
Make the dusk for two
An evening for ten!
11
In the deep forest
An Oak sings
In the wind
But solitary
No one hears his song
12
Under the willows
Of the lake
A beautiful rock
Perfect for building
A palace
A temple
Or a hut
Forsaken by all
Caressed by the waves
At least it shelters mice
13
From below
The canopy seems ablaze
The autumn sunset
Makes redheads of us all
14
Without an effort
The duckling
Let itself go up and down
With the movement of the waves
15
To each tool its usefulness
The Lamborghini
Cannot park
Where the lil’ Twingo
Simply can
16
Wanting everything
Doing everything
Experimenting
By experiencing all things
Zip gets done
A wave when it breaks
Added nothing to the sea
17
“Learn to code”
“When will you get your license?”
“Put some money on the side”
“Learn a new language”
“Take care of your mental health”
“Take care of your body’s health”
It is hard to make a ball
With dry sand
18
Reap the day!
Savour the instant!
Carped Diem!
If you only think about reaping
You’ll forget to sow
And end up with a wasteland
19
If you chase
Money, followers, wisdom
By gesticulating wildly
You’ll exhaust yourself
But see how
The branch most idle
Is the seat of many birds
20
In your library
You should have:
No Bible
No Qur’an
No Sutras
Rather than this poppycock
You’re much better off with my poems
Feel free to flash them up on your screen
And read them from time to time