Inscriptions

ON DOORS AND GATES

*
Unknown friend,
Come and stay—
Though it’s out
Of your way!

*
Come, hillfolk, please knock!
Rest here with assurance!
We’re well. If we’re not,
Your coming shall cure us!

*
Don’t knock, don’t rouse the household,
You who pass this way!
If good you bring us, enter!
If mischief, go away!

*
Here you’ll find a place to rest.
Your troubles here you’ll mend.
Enter as a welcome guest,
Depart a lasting friend!

*
Note, outsider, I’m a rider
And one rule enforce:
If you enter here, remember—
You must praise my horse!

ON TOMBSTONES

*
He was no sage,
No superman.
But bow to him:
He was a man.

*
Life he enjoyed but for the briefest span;
Address and occupation are unknown.
All that we know is that he was a man
Who, being born, did cry and, dying, moan.

*
This horseman drew his sword
To conquer ill,
Which does still walk abroad
While he lies still.

*
Hey, coward! By this hero’s grave
Forbear to raise a cheer.
Although bereft of life, he left
His gun and dagger here.

*
The hillman lying here below this mound
Amassed no gold, no sheep, nor anything;
Wherever people meet, his songs resound,
Wherever people meet, of him they sing.

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She had to choose, young lady of the house,
Between a gravestone and a grave old spouse.

*
Don’t curse your fortune, passer-by!
You are more fortunate than I.

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A thousand roads you build, but one thing’s clear:
Whichever road you take, you end up here!

*
Here lies a rider brave—
His bravery lives on.
And here’s a coward’s grave—
And cowardice lives on.

*
A bard of earth, I died
And now lie here.
Who’s lying at my side?
I’ve no idea!

ON DAGGERS

*
My friend, if ever you bequeath
A dagger, don’t forget the sheath!

*
However hot the sun on high,
Blood on this blade shall never dry.

*
Of men who bear a knife ‘tis said:
More than their hand they need their head.

*
A fool draws
In a trice.
A wiser man
Thinks twice.

*
Your knife has neither ear nor eye
And, if it misses, you must cry!

*
When I have killed, I will
Bewail my victim’s fate.
When I’m about to kill,
I only hate.

*
Swear thou wilt
By my hilt!
Keep thy pledge
By my edge!

*
Wherever human blood be shed in feud,
It whets a knife and bloodshed is renewed.

*
Pause and ponder, please,
Ere my hilt you seize!

*
Despite its rust,
A spirit brave
Shall with this blade
Both cut and thrust.

*
Taunt me not with truth or rumour—
Daggers have no sense of humour!

*
Trim your whiskers with a razor,
Fell your timber with an axe,
Do not be a trouble-raiser—
Sheathe your dagger, and relax!

*
Spring-feverish and wild,
Or keen and cold as ice,
A knife begets no child
But orphans in a trice.

ON WINE HORNS

*
Praise water, that may gratify
A shepherd’s thirsty flocks!
But it was not for water I
Was wrested from the ox.

*
Men drank and died, still drink—and die
But shall Death pass non-drinkers by?

*
Though you withdraw and lock the door
To drink your wine alone,
Ere dusk shall fall, to one and all
Your secret shall be known.

*
All that is said when good wine flows,
Better than God, the wine horn knows.

*
Drink your fill of fragrant foam
But don’t forget the way back home!

*
A ban on drink won’t stop a drinking man,
Nor does it stop the authors of the ban.

*
A wise man drank, a fool he grew.
The opposite has happened, too.

*
You pour the wine and drink it like a king,
But soon discover you’re its underling!

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Come drink, procrastinator,
We’ll find a reason later!

*
Rain swells the stalk,
And wine—our talk.

*
Full of wine? Then swill it!
Empty? Swiftly fill it!

*
Here’s to the drinkers of wine,
Who pour it, adore it,
Explore all the lore of the vine—
Or blithely ignore it!

*
Wine suits all men! It’s such
A pleasure to consume!
But you must know how much,
Why, when, where, and… with whom!

ON HEARTH STONES

*
However far abroad you roam,
You bear with you the warmth of hearth and home.

*
Woe befalls a friend
Whose heart is still.
Woe befalls a hearth
Whose ash is chill.

*
Don’t pity me, if here
You find no flame,
But those who many a year
For comfort came,

*
Warm hands and knees
Your heart to ease.

*
Never in vain
Are fireside stories told
About invaders slain
By heroes bold.

*
Tales from the past
Shall come to you
As you sit here
And think of stories new.

*
You’ll never feel a warmer glow
Than from the hearth which saw you grow!

ON WALKING STICKS

*
When your horse you cannot ride.
I’ll go jumping at your side.

*
Though with inlay bright I’m clad,
Those who walk with me are sad.

*
Honour is due and reverence
To you whose weight I shoulder,
For you are well advanced in years
Or else a wounded soldier.

ON SADDLES

*
Sit on your horse, until your fingers fumble.
Or from a blow or mortal wound you tumble.

*
Seek a brave man on his horse
Or asleep beneath the gorse.

*
Before the girth you loosen, rider, pause:
I shall not fit a horse that is not yours.

*
Here shall you grow, become a man:
Your cushion and your bed I am!

ON CRADLES

*
No sage weeps here. No fool here laughs from folly.
No coward and no hero—just my lodger.

*
May happy dreams appear to you,
And just as happily come true.

*
The child won’t let you sleep
For tears and merry laughter?
You, too, did howl and cheep—
It’s you the child takes after.

ON ROCKS

*
Weep, stricken hero, weep
And have no fear!
A rock, too, has been seen
To shed a tear.

*
An eagle, or a horseman who’s in love,
Will never ask how high the rock above.

*
Courage reached the summit,
Despair leapt from it.