Who can tell what is to come?
Whether smart or really dumb,
No one has a Crystal Ball
Tech cannot answer it all,
Most is so out of our hands,
Even, if so foolishly,
We believe we're in command.
All the talk is one big scam,
On the stage, one great big Ham,
No one really knows a thing,
Make believe, the sinuous fraud,
Is the goal, the perfect sting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree 100% with your opinion but sometimes my w-i-s-h that it were otherwise swamps my resolve. I try to live according to mythic models as Joseph Campbell taught: Orpheus and Odysseus are my models, with the very ancient figure of GILGAMESH looming in the background. But these models are really a way of interpreting what has happened: they cannot predict the future, except in the most general terms. So I am left with your complex closing assertion: MAKE BELIEVE, SINUOUS FRAUD, IS THE GOAL, THE PERFECT STING. You are affirming our poetic imagination, but also acknowledging its limitations when confronted by the Great Unknown which is human life.