<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523635" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bedtime on Tramp</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He woke down the slope, by the hay<br>With him a thousand shrill cries<br>That stilled to him, yawning.<br>He moved with strands of hay, trailing<br>On his rags.<br>Sauntering, he is a flaneur...<br>The road lamps gave him away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Half-way on a bridge over its side<br>He saw a bridge in Japanese ruin<br>Chaffing in the hurrying waters below.<br>He cursed the Japs for lying fallow<br>Spouting his rheum.<br>Pondering, he is a sinner...<br>He knelt for those braves, never to ride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A gale rolled down the road in dust, <br>Churning it up, a regular willy-willy.<br>The fizzing trees corked: the shutters' hinges off.<br>His eyes sore: swaying he would cough.<br>He stood now willy-nilly.<br>Thinking, he is a fritterer...<br>He chased the trapping miasma, loping his Wellingtons' lust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rains were bursting heavy on the esplanade, <br>A rocky splash soared with spray from the waves.<br>He sought the bulwark of the stony balustrade, <br>The waters were rising over the promenade<br>Like columns of graves.<br>Musing, he is a shirker...<br>He plunged into the sea, bold as a blade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He helped himself up to the wind's foremost blow<br>On a hillock where the moon searched his impecunious pockets, <br>Waking a flood in his eyes like swelled teats.<br>He opened wide to receive the Lady, this Endymion cheats, <br>No worm-wood virus but sweet philtre phials.<br>Finishing, he is a lover...<br>He sought the bosom of Erebus in her wildest glow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A scavenger cat clawing a bushman's billy-can<br>Some hard laid by in his work, purred with surveillance<br>In disgust over him turning tins over in the bin.<br>Together he cast the lid by to biltong and raisin: <br>The cat devours, he abandons the prandial dance.<br>Pausing, he is a server...<br>He ate them all like yams those starved seamen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over the mellowy orchard, for a while he blotted, <br>Down the glen he skied on the mossy rock<br>And rubbed clean in the steamy fume of the fall.<br>Clambering on the paddock, the love-grass over him gall<br>His rag-patches, bee-combed, mock.<br>Swearing, he is a dreamer...<br>He tore tearfully through the palliasse of touch-me-not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now upon the road of life, he chanced<br>And espied himself the mutest spectre dust, <br>Cruising his hour in the propelled sleep of night.<br>He saw himself waft from this mount to that bight<br>And saw it was not wont or just.<br>Laughing, he is a god...<br>But this infidel purpose of man be countenanced.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He moved and with him, his bed<br>And time moved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(©: T. Wignesan,1948 (from the collection: T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=T.+Wignesan">T. Wignesan</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=523635" data-title="Bedtime on Tramp de T. Wignesan" data-description="He woke down the slope, by the hay With him a thousand shrill cries That stilled to him, yawning. He moved with strands of hay, trailing On his rags. Sauntering, he is a flaneur... The road lamps gave him away. He moved and with him, his bed And ..."></div> </div> </div>

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