The Ballad Of The Proverbs

So rough the goat will scratch, it cannot sleep.
So often goes the pot to the well that it breaks.
So long you heat iron, it will glow;
so heavily you hammer it, it shatters.
So good is the man as his praise;
so far he will go, and he's forgotten;
so bad he behaves, and he's despised.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So glib you talk, you end up in contradictions.
So good is your credit as the favors you got.
So much you promise that you will back out.
So doggedly you beg that your wish is granted;
so high climbs the price when you want a thing;
so much you want it that you pay the price;
so familiar it gets to you, you want it no more.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So, you love a dog. Then feed it!
So long a song will run that people learn it.
So long you keep the fruit, it will rot.
So hot the struggle for a spot that it is won;
so cool you keep your act that your spirit freezes;
so hurriedly you act that you run into bad luck;
so tight you embrace that your catch slips away.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

So you scoff and laugh, and the fun is gone.
So you crave and spend, and lose your shirt.
So candid you are, no blow can be too low.
So good as a gift should a promise be.
So, if you love God, you obey the Church.
So, when you give much, you borrow much.
So, shifting winds turn to storm.
So loud you cry Christmas, it comes.

Prince, so long as a fool persists, he grows wiser;
so, round the world he goes, but return he will,
so humbled and beaten back into servility.
So loud you cry Christmas, it is here.

by François Villon

Comments (3)

The old souls are very strong and the death never roams around As she's scared of poverty and she thinks nothing could be taken to her domicile? I love the rationalistic way you write!
The burial ground came out of the past. A spinster a blacksmith and courtesan all seemed downcast. Time had stood still with their names chiseled on stone. Leaves of beautiful colors and tall grass- all windblown. It was lonely in this overgrown place. A tavenier claimed those days were at Color of the dead body and his caste and poverty and his social down status makes.... In India, we really feel it Many developed nations this is in other forms. this poem is one of the great poem of today. it conveys the great message, even at the time of globalization..... The poet Michele you make classic work. My best wishes. Kee Thampi
a place where dreams float above the headstones not high just at eye level so can be seen by all and all can feel the majesty of human effort which of course in the end cannot triump but for a moment and this this the old souls say a fine poem