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Anger

 eftir

Neil Harding McAlister

 
Against unyielding crag on storm-swept shore,

In useless fury smites the raging sea.

An angry heart so breaks for evermore

Upon the barren cliff of memory.

 

We hate the ones who kept us from our goal,

Abusing our sweet trust with lies or guile;

The faithless lover who once scarred our soul;

The false friend with the condescending smile.

 

Who would not burn, unnoticed and ignored

When rivals steal the credit for his labor,

His contributions unacknowledged, scorned,

While others feast on fruit he worked to savor?

 

A careless insult haunts us like a curse

That strikes us mute, not knowing what to say.

At night we fret and sleeplessly rehearse

Lost wars we might have fought another way.

 

Should we strive to be like our enemy,

Surpassing his deceit, if we are wise?

It surely would be vile hypocrisy

To emulate the traits we most despise.

 

How could we fan to action and redress

A smoldering ire that fears to speak its name?

When conscience counsels our uncertainness,

Revenge dissolves in bitter, silent shame.

 

And when crude vengeance cannot satisfy,

We fantasize that in some future days

Such glowing deeds our name may dignify

That old foes shall regret their callous ways.

 

Oh pointless Anger, must you learn so late

The lesson that we always should have known?

The heart hurts but itself when, filled with hate,

It beats against a past that’s carved in stone.

 

We cannot rest while tempests blast the mind,

And never can we cross a wrathful sea

‘Til time may calm the waves and help us find

The deep, still waters of maturity. 

Athugasemdir

[Steinunn Helga Sigurðardóttir, 22.6.2007 kl. 11:27]

thetta er fallegt ! langadi adeins ad senda kvedju til thín.

vid hittumst einu sinni fyrir langa longu í barcelona.

kær kvedja og ljós til thín

steina

[Drífa Magnúsdóttir (IP-tala skráð) 22.6.2007 kl. 20:26]

Kæra Steinunn Ólína.  Þetta er tímabær pæling. Við ræðum þetta oft í mínu hjónabandi. Ég verð reið og get alveg fríkað út án þess að meina skapaðan hlut með því, þannig, bara fá það frá mér. Meðan Vestfirðingurinn og eiginmaður minn skiptir minna skapi. Ég veit það ekki. Mér finnst gott að vera aldrei og hafa aldrei verið lengi reið. Og geta ekki verið langrækin. Innbyggð reiði er verri en sprengja af og til.

[María Kristjánsdóttir, 24.6.2007 kl. 17:00]

Ætla að reyna að læra þetta utanbókar.