I was listening today to an interview of Clive James who has completed a new English translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Mr. James indicated several times that he would not have been able to do this work except in later life with an accumulated experience and view of mortality that age has brought him. It was an interesting discussion and dovetailed with stuff my brain has been mulling over recently.
So here is my sonnet for today (did you think I’d pass off some late-night haiku as my offering for today?), in first draft:
Those things that can only be discovered
down the path of age and experience,
whether they are come upon with surprise
or kept on view at the horizon’s edge;
Only accumulated wit may serve
accomplishing what bright youth cannot know
Or insight gained through life’s unfolding path
may flash forth an unexpected answer.
But one day a remark or single thought
surprises to reveal how life was shaped
and how free choice perhaps was not so free
how did all this compound to bring us here?
How did I get here guided secretly?
Too late to become what I wish to be?