The Dying Chauffeur Poem by Rudyard Kipling
The Dying Chauffeur
Adam Lindsay Gordon
Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part--
No more for me the records and the run.
That cursed left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart
Is pinking past redemption -- I am done!
They'll never strike a mixture that'll help me pull my load.
My gears are stripped--I cannot set my brakes.
I am entered for the finals down the timeless untimed Road
To the Maker of the makers of all makes!
An interesting angle to a Chauffeur's view on death... and his feelings when teetering at the brink of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 10:53:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Kipling makes a fitting analogy between his failing health and the car parts which are not working properly any more. ''The left-hand cylinder' and his heart stand out for me.