I used to shop there
all the time
and it was always crowded
around Xmas.
But this year
only the books
and clerks
and I
were there.
The new books
eager to be read
hungry to be read
dying to be read,
sitting there unread, unopened,
on the full shelves.
"Was it something we said? "
they asked.
"Tell us what it was
and we'll apologize
and take it back."
"It's not you, " I said.
"It's us.
You're as wonderful
as ever.
But we've changed.
We're diseased.
We're plunging
into an abyss
of self inflicted
isolation and ignorance.
Many of us
will never open
a book again.
Or read one.
Or give one
at Christmas
or any other time.
We're wallowing
in our own juices,
no longer
curious about
the world.
We take pride
in the ignorance
of our leader,
who never
reads books
and paid someone else
to do his schoolwork."
"If you ignore us, "
said the books,
if you don't browse us
and buy us
and take us home
and love us,
we won't be here
next year."
"That's fine, " I said.
"We're tumbling into
a new Dark Age,
ruled by tyrants,
liars, and idiots.
We won't be needing
or reading
books.
Not where
we're going."
Dear poet! I'm a serious reader of books like you and I totally share the feeling you expressed well in your poem and see the same atmosphere around me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem with an appropriate and poetic caption.