Written by: T Wignesan

Each sound
              free or bound
each petal
Each quivering utterance
                          bold and round

these handicrafts
     these unthinking feelings
           flower in the minute thinking fingers
  untranslatable untransmutable intent
when other more enduring
stop the outpour
                    tax and stem
and call for ageing patience’s munificence :

At this the heart will pause
                           before labour
the consciousness 
           severing from congenital cries

« I’ll pound harder for patience’s sake »
                  - the penitent heart upbraids.

« Only so, until I too have learned
                  to punish words into some form
     until men of all climes may equally say:
             ‘This I understand for my father did as well
as forefathers to grandchildren might in it dwell’ «

Might one say again
                  (need it be necessarily said)

Why this shape for the violin
                      Is this the only colour of sound
That must with horsetail on bark
       be whipped to wail and whine
   like an harpy

© T. Wignesan – 1960 Heidelberg, Germany. (Rev. 2012) from the collection : « tell them i’m gone », Paris, 1983. ISBN 2-904428-07-0