Timur, I hear, took the trouble to conquer the earth.
 I don't understand him.
 With a bit of hard liquor you can forget the earth.

 I'm not saying anything against Alexander,
 Only I have seen people who were remarkable,
 Highly deserving of your admiration
 For the fact that they were alive at all.

 Great men generate too much sweat.
 In all of this I see just a proof that
 They couldn't stand being on their own
 And smoking and drinking and the like.
 And they must be too mean-spirited to get
 Contentment from sitting by a woman.

There is a program on BBC Radio 4, Sunday mornings at 6 a.m. called Something Understood. It seeks to be a rambling multi-faith, multi-(audio) medium session, exploring a given topic. It is rarely engrossing, often annoying, usually has something worth noting and every once in a while has something worth waking up for on a Sunday morning.

Last Sunday’s was entitled Feet of Clay. It included a sequence of poems, which worked together beautifully, written by Brecht, Kipling and Belloc.

I don’t think any of the three poems have appeared on WM and though Kipling and Belloc are represented on the site, there is no Brecht. In fact, I cannot find the Brecht anywhere. This presents a few difficulties:

1. I’m not sure it is a poem - maybe it is just lines from a play. No matter, it sounds like a poem.
2. Having failed to find it, I have had to transcribe it (I recorded the repeat on Sunday night). Inventing the line structure for a poem you have only ever heard is an interesting challenge - have a try.
3. Some of the words are wrong. I always have this problem with pop-songs - I can hum the tune but only guess at the words. I’m sure most are right in this case but real egg on face - the first word is almost certainly wrong. It sounded like “Timor” but the only reference I can find to Timor on the net is the island of East Timor. So it goes¹.

On the poem itself, I agree almost completely with the sentiments and love two lines in particular - “Great men generate too much sweat” and the final sentence. Overall it is a fine complement to my favourite Shakespeare sonnet, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun”. They are both saying that … well see for yourself.

— Nick

Minstrels Links

Poem #506, Lament for Zenocrate – Christopher Marlowe
Poem #44, My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing Like the Sun (Sonnets CXXX) – William Shakespeare