onsdag 19 augusti 2020

Tidens flykt


Three generations, 1923


Time all of a sudden tightens the tether.
And the outspread years are drawn together. 
How confusing the beam's from memory's lamp are; 
One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. 
What is the secret of the trick? 
How did I get so old so quick? 
Perhaps I can find by consulting the files 
How step after step added up to miles. 
I was sauntering along, my business minding, 
When suddenly struck by affection blinding. 
Which led to my being a parent nervous 
Before they invented the diaper service. 
I found myself in a novel pose, 
Counting infant fingers and toes. 
I tried to be as wise as Diogenes 
In the rearing of my too little progenies, 
But just as I hit upon wisdom's essence 
They changed from infants to adolescents. 
I stood my ground, being fairly sure 
That one of these days they must mature. 
So when I was properly humbled and harried, 
They did mature, and immediately married. 
Now I'm counting, the cycle being complete, 
The toes on my children's children's feet, 
Here lies my past, good-by 
I have kissed it; Thank you, kids, 
I wouldn't have missed it. 
                        Ogden Nash, 1950

För den som brukar besöka bastmattan är det knappast någon överraskning att höra mig prata om en av mina favoriter — Ogden Nash — betrakta det som en hyllning på hans 118 års födelsedag.

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