The night again descends upon the soul
As we go home, and drink, not to forget,
But for to be ourselves, remind our goal
And say 'I didn't make a devil's bet! '
What good it does? We are again prepared
To face another week, another call
(Not one to arms, but one to help brain-dead
Who ask dumb questions. To hell with them all! ! !)
This brings back Eliot's 'A crowd flowed over Wesminster bridge...' section of The Waste Land containing the Dantean quote 'I had not thought death had undone so many'. A good observation of the modern work ethic
the devil may care but what does Oscar Lucy think, that's what I'd like to know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cat de adevarat graiesti Mihai, multam fain pentru acest poem, umplator al mintii de intrebari si ganduri, da probabil ca viata nu e ceea ce suntem fortati sa traim. Inteleg nevoia de evadare pentru a regasi, reinsufleti sufletul liber ce e legat cu tot mai multe lanturi pe masura ce ne afundam in societate. Oare sunt mai fericiti cei ce traiesc izolati in pustii? Faptul ca stim cine suntem si ne putem intoarce la noi insine indiferent in ce forma, si pentru cat timp, ar putea forma oare aceeasi fericire ca a celor detasati de catusele vietii primare? ...