The Peacock
"...mon plumage est seme d'yeux qui s'admirent."
A royal train,
Lord,
more scintillating
than jeweled enamel.
Look,
now I spread it in a wheel.
I must say I derive
some satisfaction
from my good looks.
My feathers
are sown with eyes
admiring themselves.
True,
my discordant cry
shames me a little -
and it is humiliating
to make me remember
my meagre heart.
Your world is badly made,
if I may say so:
the nightingale's voice
in me
would be properly attired -
and soothe my soul.
Lord,
let a day come,
a heavenly day,
when my inner and outer selves
will be reconciled
in perfect harmony.
Amen.
Lord,
more scintillating
than jeweled enamel.
Look,
now I spread it in a wheel.
I must say I derive
some satisfaction
from my good looks.
My feathers
are sown with eyes
admiring themselves.
True,
my discordant cry
shames me a little -
and it is humiliating
to make me remember
my meagre heart.
Your world is badly made,
if I may say so:
the nightingale's voice
in me
would be properly attired -
and soothe my soul.
Lord,
let a day come,
a heavenly day,
when my inner and outer selves
will be reconciled
in perfect harmony.
Amen.