It was an accidental discovery. Thanks to Swaroop sir for pin pointing this particular poem in the bulky volume titled (1600 pages) – Elements of Literature. The poem is written by Louise Glϋck (I didn’t get much information about the poet except for another poem of hers which was there in www. livejournal .com. Anyway, one day, I will read more about her. The poem is a treat to all those good souls who like literature. It has little bit about Teaching and something about Life.
My students looked at me expectantly
I explain to them that the life of art is a life
of endless labour. Their expressions
hardly change; they need to know
a little more about endless labour
So I tell them the story of Sisyphus,
how he was doomed to push
a rock up a mountain, knowing nothing
would come of this effort
but that he would repeat it
indefinitely. I tell them
there is joy in this, in the artist’s life,
that one eludes
judgment and as I speak
I am secretly pushing a rock myself,
slyly pushing it up the steep
face of a mountain. Why do I lie
to these children? They aren’t listening,
they aren’t deceived, their fingers
tapping at the wooden desks –
So I retract
the myth; I tell them it occurs
in hell and that the artist lies
because he is obsessed with attainment
that he perceives the summit
as that place where he will live forever,
a place about to be
Transformed by his burden: with every breath,
I am standing at the top of the mountain.
Both my hands are free. And the rock has added
height to the mountain…
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