A Proud Man’s Sonnet
The sheep bow down their heads on blades of grass
Through pastures of the days or of the shades
Of their own heads, of their simple fuss
About the grass, that leads and feeds and fades.
The men bow heads to enemies or lovers
That means – defeat and throwing at their feet
Their hearts and minds doomed to be discovered
All trampled on by hatred or by flirting.
The states bow down their heads to other states
In storms of fear or lusts for shining brands;
The ghosts of happiness or of disasters make
All, but the proud like me bow down their heads.
But do not I pass my calmest hours
When bowing down my head on books and flowers…