In this summer season,
I will not hang-down my head in the heat
And stand beneath the willow like the mare
Who knows no cooler place to be.
Nor will I be like the collie
Wallowing in the run-off from the pipes.
Who lolls his tongue in wet defeat,
Resigned to pass each day by day.
I won't be like the hen
Who clucks and bickers and complains.
Who scolds her brood and berates the rooster,
While half-heartedly scratching in the sun.
I cannot be, nor should I try
To catch the high winds like the hawk.
Who sails above to cool, thin air
And floats the heavy heat good-bye.
So instead, I will face the heat
And meet the task at hand.
And should I weather it no better
Then at least I've made my stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem