Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Der Scheidende Comments

Rating: 2.4
It has died in me, as it must,
Every idle, earthly lust,
My hatred too of wickedness,
Utterly now, even the sense,


Heinrich Heine
Terry Craddock 08 January 2017
The Sun Will Sunrise Rise Till Noon Then Sunset Set if life is but a stage, very few I feel lives, will be a rage who the audience, who the crowd, who will call aloud life for most, is a common lot, toil for a living hot or cold childhood play, stacked decades work days, then off the stage; in old age exceeded, dies every idle pleasure, earthly lust through goodness, evil toil time life boils away, as it must till pain disease, perhaps cancer cells, a death nail tale tells the only thing thriving, living in spent husk, is death spells; life reads like lines, for a play written, for a staged audience the pleasue of life, has youth long parted, in passion earlier acts now the stage, is near empty rarely littered with aged, old hacks; so lets eat and drink, and sing and laugh merry, while we are young which is a good way, to deflect sorrow boredom, or unhappiness for all will have fickle, unknown indifferent days, under setting sun; Copyright © Terence George Craddock Inspired by the poem 'Der Scheidende' by the poet Heinrich Heine. Dedicated to the poet Henrich Heine.
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