Divinely bearded and unkempt <br />in rags he flit and puffed cold air, <br />my long ago dorgotten Lord. <br />Upon a dank and blinden dawn <br />beneath Mount Sion it was somewhere. <br />He wore a flowing, bell-shaped frock <br />with scarlet scripture patched and sewn. <br />Shabby and sombre was the Lord. <br />He flapped and beat upon the for. <br />I heard a bell-like Advent tone. <br />I held a lantern in my hand, <br />within my soul was faith again, <br />and in my mind departed youth. <br />I recognized the smell of God, <br />for I was seeking someone then. <br />He paused for me beneath the mount, <br />the stones leaped into blazing fire. <br />He tolled the bell and soothed me <br />and soaked my face with gentle tears - <br />merciful was the ancient sire. <br />I kissed his wrinkled, ancient hand, <br />and with a racking wail I thought - <br />'What is your name, my kind old Lord <br />to whom I said so many prayers?' <br />But for his name in vain I sought. <br />'I have returned to you in death <br />from life where I was damned to hell. <br />Must I recall a childhood prayer?' <br />He looked at me with sorrowful eyes <br />and tolled the bell and tolled the bell. <br />'If I but knew your lofty name.' <br />He paused. I heard a dirgelike air, <br />and psalmic heels withdrew uphill. <br />And weepingly I sit and moan <br />beneath Mount Sion lost somewhere.<br /><br />Endre Ady<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beneath-mount-sion/
