Mensagens

A mostrar mensagens de agosto, 2018

Jamrach Holobom / Ambrose Bierce: "Abracadabra"


By Abracadabra we signify 
     An infinite number of things. 
’Tis the answer to What? and How? and Why? 
And Whence? and Whither?—a word whereby 
     The Truth (with the comfort it brings) 
Is open to all who grope in night, 
Crying for Wisdom’s holy light. 

Whether the word is a verb or a noun 
     Is knowledge beyond my reach. 
I only know that ’tis handed down. 
         From sage to sage, 
         From age to age— 
An immortal part of speech! 

Of an ancient man the tale is told 
That he lived to be ten centuries old, 
     In a cave on a mountain side. 
     (True, he finally died.) 
The fame of his wisdom filled the land, 
For his head was bald, and you’ll understand 
     His beard was long and white 
     And his eyes uncommonly bright. 
  
Philosophers gathered from far and near 
To sit at his feet and hear and hear, 
         Though he never was heard 
         To utter a word 
     But “Abracadabraabracadab
         Abracadaabracad
Abracaabracabraab!” 
         ’Twas all he had, 
’Twas all they wanted to hear, and each 
Made copious notes of the mystical speech, 
         Which they published next— 
         A trickle of text 
In the meadow of commentary. 
     Mighty big books were these, 
     In a number, as leaves of trees; 
In learning, remarkably—very! 
  
         He’s dead, 
         As I said, 
And the books of the sages have perished, 
But his wisdom is sacredly cherished. 
In Abracadabra it solemnly rings, 
Like an ancient bell that forever swings. 
         O, I love to hear 
         That word make clear 
Humanity’s General Sense of Things.