We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.
And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.
Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Second Epistle to Davie by Robert Burns
- The Winds Out of the West Land Blow poem – A. E. Housman
- Ольга Берггольц – В доме Павлова
- Валерий Брюсов – Дождь перед ночью
- Epilogue poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Dog racing
- Николай Карамзин – К бедному поэту
- Esteemed Bliss by Vaishnavi Prakash
- Song On May Morning poem – John Milton poems
- Villanelle: The Psychological Hour poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Persephone, Falling by Rita Dove
- Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust by Sir Philip Sidney
- Let Him In by Vishnu J Mohan
- The Letter poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- Владимир Степанов – Рассказ оружейника
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
