Inside a weatherbeaten drum,
there sat a man, alert but glum.
It was, of course, Diogenes,
he'd fled the world and its distress.
And from the time that he had fled
the people came, alive and dead
to ask him how to truly live.
He had the answers and would give
the best to all who came to see
the man inside the drum, so free.
And many thousands took advice
not knowing how the truth applies
to real life, so they stayed dumb.
All wisdom stayed inside the drum.
I think I could use a 'Diogenes' now and then to answer my neverending questions on life! Very nice Herbert. :) Sincerely, mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I've enjoyed the craft you exhibit in your poems. This is no exception. Well-crafted and concise with an interesting rhyme scheme to boot. All the best. HDC