Tidens flykt

 

Three generations, 1923

Philipp Bauknecht 

PREFACE TO THE PAST

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.