5.7.11

The Harpy - Steve Von Till (A poem by Robert W. Service)



There was a woman, and she was wise;
woefully wise was she;
She was old, so old,
yet her years all told were but a score and three;
And she knew by heart, from finish to start,
the Book of Iniquity.

There is no hope for such as I on earth,
nor yet in Heaven;
Unloved I live, unloved I die,
unpitied, unforgiven;
A loath├Ęd jade, I ply my trade,
unhallowed and unshriven.

I paint my cheeks, for they are white,
and cheeks of chalk men hate;
Mine eyes with wine I make them shine,
that man may seek and sate;
With overhead a lamp of red I sit me down and wait

Until they come, the nightly scum,
with drunken eyes aflame;
Your sweethearts, sons, ye scornful ones;
tis I who know their shame.
The gods, ye see, are brutes to me
and so I play my game.

For life is not the thing we thought,
and not the thing we plan;
And Woman in a bitter world
must do the best she can;
Must yield the stroke, and bear the yoke,
and serve the will of man;

Must serve his need
and ever feed the flame of his desire,
Though be she loved for love alone,
or be she loved for hire;
For every man since life began
is tainted with the mire.

__And though you know he love you so
__and set you on love’s throne;
__Yet let your eyes but mock his sighs,
__and let your heart be stone,
__Lest you be left (as I was left) attainted and alone.

__From love’s close kiss to hell’s abyss
__is one sheer flight, I trow,
__And wedding ring and bridal bell
__are will-o’-wisps of woe,
__And ’tis not wise to love too well,
__and this all women know.

__Wherefore, the wolf-pack having gorged
__upon the lamb, their prey;
__With siren smile and serpent guile,
__I make the wolf-pack pay;
__With velvet paws and flensing claws,
__a tigress roused to slay.

__One who in youth sought truest truth
__and found a devil’s lies;
__A symbol of the sin of man,
__a human sacrifice.
__Yet shall I blame on man the shame?
__Could it be otherwise?

Was I not born to walk in scorn
where others walk in pride?
The Maker marred, and, evil-starred,
I drift upon His tide;
And He alone shall judge His own,
so I His judgment bide.

Fate has written a tragedy;
its name is “The Human Heart.”
The Theatre is the House of Life,
Woman the mummer’s part;
The Devil enters the prompter’s box
and the play is ready to start.




**Sajak yang sangat sangat bagus - The Harpy oleh Robert W. Service 1874-1958. Dideklamasikan dengan sedikit pengubahsuaian oleh yang lara minati, yang tersohor Steve Von Till melalui video di atas, which i found very deep and interesting. Sajak yang bagus, pendeklamasi yang bagus dengan suara yang bagus, memberi nilai tambah dan meninggalkan kesan  yang bukan kecil. Tidak percaya? Maka nikmatilah.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

mengapa tidak:)