"Prelude"-Derek Walcott

I, with legs crossed along the daylight, watch

The variegated fists of clouds that gather over

The uncouth features of this, my prone island.

Meanwhile the steamers which divide horizons prove

Us lost;

Found only

In tourist booklets, behind ardent binoculars;

Found in the blue reflection of eyes

That have known cities and think us here happy.

Time creeps over the patient who are too long patient,

So I, who have made one choice,

Discover that my boyhood has gone over.

And my life, too early of course for the profound cigarette,

The turned doorhandle, the knife turning

In the bowels of the hours, must not be made public

Until I have learnt to suffer

In accurate iambics.

I go, of course, through all the isolated acts,

Make a holiday of situations,

Straighten my tie and fix important jaws,

And note the living images

Of flesh that saunter through the eye.

Until from all I turn to think how,

In the middle of the journey through my life,

O how I came upon you, my

Reluctant leopard of the slow eyes.

1948

· From Selected Poems by Derek Walcott, published by Faber