The Golden Deer

I’m hunting for a golden deer not found at the usual grounds.
If I persist in keeping up the chase at the same haunts,
Old age will overtake me and the energy I need
For pursuing my prey will be wasted
On repeating forever the habitual fray.
Because my golden deer cannot be found
At the usual grounds.

This golden prey is ill-disposed to sounds.
It frowns at the baying of hounds.
The rifle shot and gun are alien to its nature.
Horses and jeeps and even the lone hunter in
His hunting boots for it are non-existent.
Because my golden deer cannot be found
At the usual grounds.

It is not that it declines to be brought to bay.
Its life objective is the same as other prey.
It is that it requires a unique approach other than
Turf, scarlet coats, galloping horses riding the foxes,
And all the brilliant glamour of the chase.
Because my golden deer cannot be found
At the usual grounds.

It is useless to pursue it at rougher haunts,
Like the lair of the panther or the grasslands where
The lion roams. Or the den of the tiger.
Or all the other places where wild beasts abound
Waiting for the challenge of the hunter.
Because my golden deer cannot be found
At the usual grounds.


I have explored all the familiar places.
They are attractive for the thrills they offer.
But like the Lotus Eaters in “The Odyssey”,
The price for their enjoyment is forgetfulness.
And I can’t be detained! I must move on!
Because my golden deer cannot be found
At the usual grounds.
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