Don’t praise the one who understands you,
Nor the one who praises back.
Nature makes all poisons sweeter
Year by year, to cull the lost.
Praise the one who disappoints you,
The one who does not know your name.
In that one you will find your parent
Seeing you through empty eyes,
Until the paint dries, and the painter,
Having hidden long enough,
Reemerges all around you;
Redeems you and your arrogance;
And only then will praise bring merit
To the praiser and the praised.
BEATING THE POISONED DRUM 