The Vain Question

Why should we court the storms that rave and rend,

Safe at our household hearth?

Why, starved and naked, without home or friend,

Unknowing whence we came or where we wend,

Follow from no beginning to no end

An uncrowned martyr’s path?

Is it worth while to waste our all in vain?

To seek, and not to know?

To strive for something we can never gain,

To labour blindly for a wage of pain,

And crack our heartstrings with the stress and strain,

And reap no field we sow?

What does it matter whether love or hate,

Or praise or blame, be theirs

Who pass like shadows, with no time to wait

For understanding of the ways of fate,

Which makes the hopeless desert blossom late,

And kills good wheat with tares?

Why do we choose to suffer, when we might

Lie down to sleep and dream?

Is praise for men who try to do the right?

Is blame for him who shirks the deadly fight?

And whose the friendship that is heart’s delight?

And whose the love supreme?

Wide do we set our sanctuary door

That fairest guest to greet,

And find too late, when we have shown our store,

The sacred places rudely trampled o’er,

Bereaved, profaned, and soiled for evermore

With tread of vulgar feet.

And nothing left to solace us but this,

At such a frightful cost-

A taste, a glimpse, the memory of a kiss;

Only a sense of what diviner bliss,

That might have been, we have contrived to miss;

Only what love has lost.

And brother-bond-the loyal comradeship

That comes to every call-

What worth the smiling eye, the warm hand-grip,

The benediction of the kindly lip?

Sickness, old age or poverty can strip

The value from them all.

And faith, embalmed in immemorial creed-

Once our supreme support,

Our staff and beacon to uphold and lead-

A light extinguished and a broken reed!

And where, O where, in bitter time of need,

Shall substitute be sought?

Wherefore this anguish of desire to see

That which concerns us not-

The evolution of the life to be,

The distant course, the final destiny

Of worlds and men-the ages wherein we

Shall have no part or lot?

Why not shut eyes of spirit and of brain

That can torment us thus?

Why not take something to assuage the pain,

And shut the doors and go to sleep again?

The Search may be successful or in vain,

What matters it to us?

Is it worth while, when house and home are here,

And we can dwell at ease,

To go forth, lonely, and in mortal fear,

To travel roads that lead not anywhere,

As bare of lamp or signpost, far or near,

And full of thorns, as these?

To leave the Good whereof we are possest,

To seek, in senseless grief,

For some divine but ever unknown Best,

And see no goal and find no place of rest-

Is it worth while, on such a fruitless quest

To waste a life so brief?

We must not ask-we must not ask again.

We have to wait and see.

Press on, poor soul, along the path of pain

That is the one thing absolutely plain.

The last assessment of the loss and gain

Is not a task for thee.

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External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: Behold, My Love, How Green The Groves: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Winter Of Life: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Lover’s Morning Salute To His Mistress: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inconstancy In Love: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: How Lang And Dreary Is The Night: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Esteem For Chloris: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Pretty Peg: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Andrew Turner: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On An Innkeeper Nicknamed “The Marquis”: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On A Swearing Coxcomb: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On A Suicide: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Hearing It Asserted Falsehood: is expressed in the Rev. Dr. Babington’s very looks. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Being Shewn A Beautiful Country Seat : Belonging to the same Laird [not quite so wise as Solomon]. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram On A Country Laird,: not quite so wise as Solomon. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Chloris: Requesting me to give her a Spring of Blossomed Thorn. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J-N: On her Principles of Liberty and Equality. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Dr. Maxwell: On Miss Jessy Staig’s recovery. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: She Says She Loes Me Best Of A’: by Robert Burns

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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