Read Poems That Make Grown Men Cry for Free Online Page A

Heart
(1994),
The Big Picture
(1997) and
The
Woman in the Fifth
(2007), have been made into films. He has also written three works of nonfiction,
Beyond the Pyramids: Travels in Egypt
(1988),
In God’s Country: Travels in
the Bible Belt
(1989) and
Chasing Mammon
(1992)
.

Extract from
Peer Gynt
    HENRIK IBSEN (1828–1906)

    KENNETH BRANAGH
    In Christopher Fry’s verse translation of Ibsen’s
Peer Gynt
, there is a sermon by a pastor towards the end of the play. Peer listens while the priest tells
the story (in verse) of a young man from the mountains who mutilates himself to avoid joining the army and losing his sweet-heart.The sermon is the brief story of the young man’s life, and
in this version – a fine poet’s translation of a fine poet – it always makes me cry.
    From
Peer Gynt
    And now, when the soul has gone its way to judgment,
    And the flesh reposes here like an empty pod,
    Now, dear friends, we have a word to say
    About this dead man’s journeyings on earth.
    He wasn’t rich, or of great understanding;
    His voice was small, he had no manly bearing;
    He gave his opinions shyly, uncertainly,
    Was scarcely master in his own house.
    In church, he walked like someone who would ask
    Permission to sit there among the others.
    He came from Gudbrands valley, as you know.
    When he settled here he was hardly more than a boy;
    And you all remember how, up to the last,
    He always kept his right hand in his pocket.
    This right hand in the pocket was the thing
    That impressed the man’s image on one’s mind;
    And also the uneasiness, the shy
    Reticence when he walked into the room.
    But though hepreferred to go his quiet way,
    And though he seemed a stranger here among us,
    You all know (though he tried hard to conceal it)
    There were only four fingers on the hand he hid. –
    I remember, on a morning many years ago,
    A meeting at Lunde to enroll recruits.
    It was war-time. Everybody was discussing
    The country’sordeal, and what lay ahead.
    I stood watching. Sitting behind the table
    Was the Captain, the parish clerk and some N.C.O.s.
    They took the measure of one boy after another,
    Swore them in and took them for the army.
    The room was full, and outside you could hear
    The crowd of young men laughing in the yard.
    Then a namewas shouted. Another lad came forward,
    Looking as pale as the snow on a glacier.
    They called him nearer; he approached the table;
    A piece of rag was tied round his right hand.
    He gasped, swallowed, groped about for words,
    But couldn’t speak, in spite of the Captain’s order.
    However, his cheeks burning, stammering still
    And speakingvery quickly, he managed at last
    To mumble something about an accidental
    Slip of a scythe that sheared his finger off.
    Silence fell on the room, as soon as he had said it.
    Men exchanged looks, and their lips tightened.
    They all stoned the boy with silent stares.
    He felt the hailstorm, but he didn’t see it.
    The Captain, anelderly, grey-haired man, stood up,
    Spat, pointed a finger and said Get out!
    And the boy went. Everyone drew aside
    So that he had to run the gauntlet between them.
    He got as far as the door, then took to his heels
    Up and off, across the fields and hillside,
    Scrambling on over the shale and rocks,
    To where his home was, highon the mountainside.
    Six months later he came to live down here
    With a mother, a newborn child, and his wife-to-be.
    He leased a plot of ground way up on the hill
    Where the derelict land joins the parish of Lom.
    He married as soon as he could; put up a house;
    Ploughed the stony ground, and made his way,
    As the waving goldof his little fields bore witness.
    At church he kept his right hand in his pocket,
    But back at home no doubt those nine fingers
    Did the work of other people’s ten. –
    One spring a flood carried it all away.
    Only their lives were spared. Everything lost,
    He set to work to make another clearing,
    And by the autumn smoke roseup again
    From a hillside farm, this time better