Not too many people believe
in Utopias any more.
The last movement
occurred in the youthful,
idealistic 1960s
when fresh-faced
college kids became convinced
that we as human beings
could surely do better than this;
that King’s dream
was more than a dream
and the mountain top
was attainable.
And yet,
it seems that Utopias—
call them El Dorados, Edens,
Shangri-las, whatever—
should never go the way
of disillusionment
and loss of innocence.
As long as I can believe
that a world where
cooperation and brotherhood
is at least a possibility,
though an improbability,
then maybe, just maybe,
the morning star
will seem a tiny bit brighter
tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yet, without such beliefs I do not think their would be any poetry. Even the most cynical poets write while hoping their view of the world will turn out to be the false one. Thanks for sharing this and know that you are not the only one of your generation who still holds these hopes.