26 JULY 1957, Page 27

. . . a Book of Verse and Thou .

. '

• than happy to find that with the exception of 9ne fellahin everybody was at least familiar with ttie original style of the Rubaiyat. The philosophy Ir,I,I1L/ reflections of our central character were re- ' fleeted in several mirrors, but had I not been

familiar with Fitzgerald's magnificent translation could have been forgiven for thinking once or twice that our Omar was occupied in one of the more disreputab!e activities associated with the back streets of Port Said ! • • In all seriousness, of course, the Rubdiyat might be used as the handbook for competition setters when they find themselves stuck for a nicely turned phrase or two.

And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot Some could articulate, while others not:

' You see what I mean? Only two competitors seemed to be aware that thC original version consisted of a series of 'quatrains complete in their own right and only given continuity in the translation. Unfortu- na,tely, neither qualified for prizes. 1011' choice, I would have liked to see a I' BY more of the inspiration shown in the third nne of one Of J. S. Sweetman's verses : Who's blessed with Oil beneath his sandy floor, Sees Fortune smiling through the Open Door With Sherbet-Cola and the golden flow

Of Dollars and delights undreamed before.

I thought that Trooper Jones was ,eading for a prize with this opening: 1 Myself when young was somewhat indigent

And bull'd boots for a British regiment. They would abuse me and my cursed race And hurl the black boots at my fundament.

know that the apostrophe and the accent have 'eel) discarded almost as a matter of poetic

PRIZES

(w. T. HUDDLES£ON)

Look, how with frantic zeal some sweat and toil, Seeking to make the desert yield its oil; Yet for their pains they move with quicker step To join their prize beneath a ravished soil.

And those who cleaved the desert's dusty face, To join the seas that ships might move apace. Where are they now and what is their reward Whose monuments are toppled in disgrace?

The hoary lion dreams of former days, When all the forest trembled 'neath his gaze. But jackals seize his prey and laughing cry : 'Listen, dear brothers, how the donkey brays.'

licence, but I still like to see them both, if only for ease of reading.

Any number of entries petered out in the final verse with weak references to Nasser or America —one or two even tried the weak 'sewers' pun. . . . Ugh ! 1 quote W. Stewart's last verse for the guidance of offenders.

Shake hands with Death: prepare the Winding Sheet For Bloody Victory means sure Defeat. He Who on Corpses climbs the Heights today Tomorrow writhes beneath a People's Feet.

In his first two verses, Guy Kendall studiously avoided contentious names by his use of generic terms. [liked the technique and I think his middle verse is well worth a very honourable mention : He probes the Middle and the Further East, Mistakes his greater blessedness for least, And like a frail and miniature sardine Brtngs death in On. to figure at the feast.

Douglas Hawson, L. S. C., P. M., T. H. Blench and those already mentioned are highly com- mended. ('They sneer at me for leaning all awry.') I suggest a guinea and a half to each of the following : W. T. Huddleston, Wyn Boileau, J. A. Lindon and R. Kennard Davis.

(WYN BOILEAU)

What boots it if the strangest taLs arc told Along the Persian Gulf. I barter gold For dollars. A. Kuwaiti Sheik. I dwell Tented and warring, immemorial old.

They say, along some strip of herbage grown of That just divides the Desert from the sown, There is an Islam Caravanserai,

And a new Ph:trout] sits upon his throne.'

Hurling his chariots, and the hated Franks Darken his skies with wings, his earth with tanks And guns. While Israel speaks the law (Allah be praised) we sell oil to the Yanks.

U. A. LINDON) 'How sweet is National Sovranty'—think some: Others—'How blest that Eden now is come.' But old Khayyam plays Serpent up a Tree. Charmed by the distant Music of the Drum.

Into the Waste, a Circus Lion roaring, With Barrel-chest, and hungry Vulture soaring . . Then out, his well-Yanked tail between his legs (UNO the Cause), and lenience imploring.

Come, pass the Funnel! Take his cut who can; Though cheeks grow red beneath Jamaican tanl Here's petrol in your hollow Tank, to drown The Memory of this imprudent Man !

'Tis all a chequer-board of Sheiks and Beys, Where High Finance with States for counters plays, Hither and Thither shifts then through the maze, Threatens, Cajoles, Exploits them—and betrays!

0 Nasser, who for Dam didst seize the Dike, And against Eden didst invoke the Ike, Lo, they that own the Dollars and the Bombs Shall mock thee for the moment—ere they strikoll Ah, Love! Could Thou and I with Fate combine To grasp entire the pipe's far-wandering line, Would we not empty it of Oil—and then Re-charge it, to the Heart's desire, with Wine?