Poetry Archives

Long time ago, we two set out,
  My soul and I.
  I know not why,
For all our way was dim with doubt.
  I know not where
  We two may fare:
Though still with every changing weather,
We wander, groping on together.

We do not love, we are not friends,
  My soul and I.
  He lives a lie;
Untruth lines every way he wends.
  A scoffer he
  Who jeers at me:
And so, my comrade and my brother,
We wander on and hate each other.

Ay, there be taverns and to spare,
  Beside the road;
  But some strange goad
Lets me not stop to taste their fare.
  Knew I the goal
  Toward which my soul
And I made way, hope made life fragrant:
But no. We wander, aimless, vagrant!