Blind The Spiders Wove Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Blind The Spiders Wove
In the dark light
Blind the spiders wove
And wove
The web of culture
And
Dawn stopped not:
For they were as
Of the Dawn herself:
And so
Continued in the
Light of day
Even when the sweaty zenith
Had reached up to the sun
Then
In the fainting afternoon
They lazed
And sighed
As sunset clasped
Her belongings to go:
Sighed
More at fading of the day.
The web of culture! With the muse of the spider. Nice work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 12:27:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
You have created your own myth of Origins. It should humble us that the spider's ability to weave trumps our rational ability. To think we are dependent on the activity of spiders makes me queasy. I want to believe with Yeats in a different myth: EVERYTHING THAT FLAMES AGAINST THE NIGHT MAN'S OWN RESINOUS HEART HAS FED. Yeats grants this cosmic identity to humanity which is heroic. But your myth is just as likely