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Regarding Art

Written by: Nazim Hikmet | Biography
 Sometimes, I, too, tell the ah's
of my heart one by one
like the blood-red beads
of a ruby rosary strung
 on strands of golden hair!

But my
poetry's muse
takes to the air
on wings made of steel
like the I-beams
 of my suspension bridges!

I don't pretend
 the nightingale's lament
to the rose isn't easy on the ears.
.
.
But the language that really speaks to me are Beethoven sonatas played on copper, iron, wood, bone, and catgut.
.
.
You can "have" galloping off in a cloud of dust! Me, I wouldn't trade for the purest-bred Arabian steed the sixth mph of my iron horse running on iron tracks! Sometimes my eye is caught like a big dumb fly by the masterly spider webs in the corners of my room.
But I really look up to the seventy-seven-story, reinforced-concrete mountains my blue-shirted builders create! Were I to meet the male beauty "young Adonis, god of Byblos," on a bridge, I'd probably never notice; but I can't help staring into my philosopher's glassy eyes or my fireman's square face red as a sweating sun! Though I can smoke third-class cigarettes filled on my electric workbenches, I can't roll tobacco - even the finest- in paper by hand and smoke it! I didn't -- "wouldn't" -- trade my wife dressed in her leather cap and jacket for Eve's nakedness! Maybe I don't have a "poetic soul"? What can I do when I love my own children more than mother Nature's!



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