The old wor[l]d whirlwinds onwards, faster,
Ha[s]tes to re[th]ink its hoary story,
Enters unknown territory.
Paradigm change or disaster,
As Man, no longer his own master,
Regrets both past defeats and glory,
Against a background inventory
Displacing values? Pomp, proved plaster,
Is vulnerable, and no forecaster
Gives good odds for salutory
Mutation alleviatory.
CHange slips on its ball-bearing caster
ANd for Change’s sake anticipation
GEnerates its own acceleration...
19 June 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem