<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481201" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Jerome</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each day brings its toad, each night its dragon.<br>Der heilige Hieronymus--his lion is at the zoo--<br>Listens, listens. All the long, soft, summer day<br>Dreams affright his couch, the deep boils like a pot.<br>As the sun sets, the last patient rises,<br>Says to him, Father, trembles, turns away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Often, to the lion, the saint said, Son.<br>To the man the saint says--but the man is gone.<br>Under a plaque of Gradiva, at gloaming.<br>The old man boils an egg. When he has eaten<br>He listens a while. The patients have not stopped.<br>At midnight, he lies down where his patients lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All night the old man whispers to the night.<br>It listens evenly. The great armored paws<br>Of its forelegs put together in reflection.<br>It thinks: Where Ego was, there Id shall be.<br>The world wrestles with it and is changed into it<br>And after a long time changes it. The dragon</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Listens as the old man says, at dawn: I see<br>--There is an old man, naked in a desert, by a cliff.<br>He has set out his books, his hat, his ink, his shears<br>Among scorpions, toads, the wild beasts of the desert.<br>I lie beside him--I am a lion.<br>He kneels listening. He holds in his left hand</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stone with which he beats his breat, and holds<br>In his right hand, the pen with which he puts<br>Into his book, the words of the angel:<br>The angel up into whose face he looks.<br>But the angel does not speak. He looks into the face<br>Of the night, and the night says--but the night is gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He has slept. . . . At morning, when man's flesh is young<br>And man's soul thankful for it knows not what,<br>The air is washed, and smells of boiling coffee,<br>And the sun lights it. The old man walks placidly<br>To the grocer's; walks on, under leaves, in light,<br>To a lynx, a leopard--he has come;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man holds out a lump of liver to the lion,<br>And the lion licks the man's hand with his tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Randall+Jarrell">Randall Jarrell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481201" data-title="Jerome de Randall Jarrell" data-description="Each day brings its toad, each night its dragon. Der heilige Hieronymus--his lion is at the zoo-- Listens, listens. All the long, soft, summer day Dreams affright his couch, the deep boils like a pot. As the sun sets, the last patient rises, Says ..."></div> </div> </div>

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