I push hunger on
until it dies,
drive attention from it
forget.
.
I'd sooner swallow the dust
a dry mouthful,
than take some man's
condescending favours.
.
Were I not shunning blame
I would lack
no food, no drink,
no ease of life,
.
But this hard soul
gives me no rest
when wronged
until I move on.
.
Wrapping my insides
around an empty stomach pit,
like a weaver's threads
spun and twisted.
-----
I part at down on meager fare
like a wolf
led on, desert into desert,
scrawny, grey.
.
He sets out at dawn, hungry,
quick into the wind,
slicing down where the ravine ends
and veering.
.
He moves on in pursuit of food.
It eludes him.
He howls. His mates respond,
hunger-worn.
.
Thin as the new moon
ashen-faced, like arrow shafts
rattling around
in the hand of a gambler,
.
Like a queen bee,
swarm roused
by the two poles of a cliff-hanging
honey-gatherer,
.
Wide jawed, gape mouthed,
as if their jaws
were the sides of a split stick,
grinning, grim.
.
He howls in the empty spaces,
they howl,
as if they and he were bereaved
on the high ridge, wailing.
.
His eyelids sag. He grows silent.
They follow his lead.
They, he, forlorn,
take heart from one another.
.
He turns back. They turn back.
surging, hard pressed,
keeping composure
over what they hide.
.
from The Arabian Ode in "L" by Shanfara
Pre-Islamic Arabic
Translated by Michael A. Sells in Desert Traces
.
Hunger is the complement of eating and you can't eat well without feeling hunger. You can't think well. Hunger on a long ride is the feeling of a body growing strong until it boinks, blood sugar exhausted, and you try to drag yourself home, hoping the water will carry you the rest of the way.
This poetry is brilliant and worth searching out.
