What, Me, Guard Sheep? (by Erin Moure)

What, Me, Guard Sheep? (by Erin Moure)

Original Text
Erin Moure, Sheep’s Vigil by a Fervent Person: A Transelation of Alberto Caeiro/Fernando Pessoa's O guardador de rebanhos (Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 2001). This poem is reproduced on the Griffin Prize Web Site (from a volume on the 2002 Canadian Shortlist).
for Phil Hall
1What, me, guard sheep?
2I made that up; this is poetry.
3It’s my soul that’s sheepish
4Knows wind and sun
5Grabs onto every Season and follows, looking.
6Nature’s peaceful today; it’s empty
7and it’s my pal.
8But it saddens me: what if sunset
9turns my lights out too
10when the parking lot goes cold
11and nightfall’s butterfly presses at my body,
12glass.
13But being sad isn’t all bad,
14it’s fair enough and natural
15What else is a soul for?
16It’s so sure it exists
17when the hand cuts flowers, it doesn’t cry out.
18Like the racket of the mail truck
19Coming around the curve of the avenue
20My thoughts are happy.
21Yet simply thinking this makes me glum,
22For if they weren’t happy, there’d be more variety:
23Instead of being happy and glum
24They’d be joyful and happy. What the heck.
25Thinking bugs me, like walking in the rain
26When the bus goes by, a huge wind splattering greasy water.
27Ambitions and desires? My head’s wet.
28Being a poet isn’t an ambition,
29it’s a version of being alone.
RPO poem Editors
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition
2011