AKO


Ako uspeš sačuvati glavu dok svi oko tebe
Bezglavi jure i za to krive nikoga do tebe;
Ako sačuvaš veru u sebe dok svi u tebe
Sumnjaju, i još da im platiš što sumnjaju u tebe;
Ako možeš čekati neumoran od čekanja,
Ili slušati laži a da te laž ne pokvari,
Ili biti omražen bez ikakvog opravdanja,
I još da ne izgledaš dobro i ne pričaš mudre stvari;

Ako možeš da sanjaš – a da ne poklekneš pod vlašću
Sna; Ako možaš da misliš – a da misao za cilj ne držiš;
Ako se suočiti možeš sa trijumfom i propašću
I još da usto ovo dvoje za istu stvar držiš;
Ako možeš izdržati da čuješ sopstvenu istinu
Izvrnutu od nitkova - da zamka bude budalama,
Ili gledati najdraže stvari kako se rasplinu,
Skupljati ih, graditi ponovo, dok sve se opet slama;

Ako možeš sabrati u hrpu sve svoje zgoditke
I rizikovati ih u jednom bacanju kocke,
I izgubiti i stati iznova na svoje početke
I ne pomenuti više nikada te kurvinske kocke;
Ako možeš prisiliti svoje srce, nerve, tetive
Da ti služe dugo nakon se sklope smrtne ralje,
I da se drže i guraju iako u tebi nema više žive
Sile, ničeg osim volje koja kaže: »Idemo dalje«

Ako možeš da glasnogovoriš masi i častan ostaneš,
Ili da šetaš s kraljevima, al običan sasvim;
Ako pred prijateljem i neprijateljem isti staneš;
Ako svi računaju na tebe, al niko baš sasvim;
Ako možeš da osetiš neoprostivu minutu
U šezdesetsekundnom neopisivom trku –
Onda je Zemlja tvoja, sine, i sve što je na njoj -
I još više, mnogo više – bićeš čovek, sine moj!

General Summary


We are very slightly changed
From the semi−apes who ranged

India's prehistoric clay;
Whoso drew the longest bow,
Ran his brother down, you know,

As we run men down today.

"Dowb," the first of all his race,
Met the Mammoth face to face

On the lake or in the cave,
Stole the steadiest canoe,
Ate the quarry others slew,

Died−−and took the finest grave.

When they scratched the reindeer−bone
Someone made the sketch his own,

Filched it from the artist−−then,
Even in those early days,
Won a simple Viceroy's praise

Through the toil of other men.

Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage
Favoritism governed kissage,
Even as it does in this age.

Who shall doubt the secret hid
Under Cheops' pyramid
Was that the contractor did

Cheops out of several millions?
Or that Joseph's sudden rise
To Comptroller of Supplies
Was a fraud of monstrous size

On King Pharoah's swart Civilians?

Thus, the artless songs I sing
Do not deal with anything

New or never said before.

As it was in the beginning,
Is today official sinning,

And shall be forevermore.

Army Headquarters


Old is the song that I sing−−

Old as my unpaid bills−−
Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring
Men at dak−bungalows−−old as the Hills.

Ahasuerus Jenkins of the "Operatic Own"
Was dowered with a tenor voice of super−Santley tone.

His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle queer;
He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh! he had an ear.

He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times a day,
He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way,
His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders,
But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders.

He took two months to Simla when the year was at the spring, And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.
He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at
Cornelia Agrippina who was musical and fat.

She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a Dept., Where Cornelia Agrippina's human
singing−birds were kept
From April to October on a plump retaining fee,
Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.

Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used to play;
He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was false as they: So when the winds of April turned the budding
roses brown,
Cornelia told her husband: "Tom, you mustn't send him down."

They haled him from his regiment which didn't much regret him; They found for him an office−stool, and on
that stool they set him, To play with maps and catalogues three idle hours a day,
And draw his plump retaining fee−−which means his double pay.

Now, ever after dinner, when the coffeecups are brought,
Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte;
And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath waxen great,
And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the State.

Study of an Elevation, In Indian Ink


This ditty is a string of lies.
But−−how the deuce did Gubbins rise?

POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E.,
Stands at the top of the tree;

And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led
To the hoisting of Potiphar G.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E.,
Is seven years junior to Me;
Each bridge that he makes he either buckles or breaks,
And his work is as rough as he.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E.,
Is coarse as a chimpanzee;
And I can't understand why you gave him your hand,
Lovely Mehitabel Lee.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E.,
Is dear to the Powers that Be;
For They bow and They smile in an affable style
Which is seldom accorded to Me.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E.,
Is certain as certain can be
Of a highly−paid post which is claimed by a host
Of seniors−−including Me.

Careless and lazy is he,
Greatly inferior to Me.

What is the spell that you manage so well,
Commonplace Potiphar G.?

Lovely Mehitabel Lee,
Let me inquire of thee,
Should I have riz to what Potiphar is,
Hadst thou been mated to me?