A poem of dedication written by Nissim Ezekiel
Text
The view from basement rooms is rather small.
A patch or two of green, a bit of a sky,
Children heard but never seen, and old wall,
Two trees, washing line between, windows
With high curtains to block the outward eye,
It seens that nothing changes, nothing grows,
But suddenly the mind is loosed of chains
And purifies itself before the warm
Mediterranean which fils the veins,
To make the body beautiful and light
Heaviness of limbs or soul can mimic clam
I close the eyes to see with better sight.
There is a landscape certainly, the sea
Among its broad relatives, attracts
Because it is a symbol of the free
Demoniac life within,
Hardly suggested by the surface facts,
And rivers what a man can hope to win
By simple flowing, learning how to flow,
And trees implay an obvious need to of roots,
Besides that all organic growth is slow.
Both poetry and living illustrate.
Each season brings its own peculiar fruits,
A time to act, a time to contemplate.
The images created try to change.
Not to seek release but resolution.
Not to hanker for wide god-like range
Of thought, matador's dexterity.
I do not want to Yogi's concentrations.
I do not want to perfect clarity
O saints not the tyrant's endless powder.
I want to a human balance humanly
Acquired, faithful in the common hours.
This, Elizabeth, is my creation,
Stated in the terms of poetry
I offer it to you dedication.
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