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
- Sonnet V. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses poem – John Keats poems
- Владислав Крапивин – Тяжелый толчок и вспышка у глаз
- The Bakchesarian Fountain poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Reverie Zahir U Din
- Ок Мельникова – Вечные ценности
- Ballade Of Roulette poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Return Of The Heroes by Siegfried Sassoon
- The Upstairs Room by Weldon Kees
- Crows and Hawks by Richard Schiffman
- The War Films by Sir Henry Newbolt
- Каждому сроку – свой путь
- Владимир Высоцкий – Тексты для капустника к 5-летию Театра на Таганке
- Love’s Wisdom poem – Alfred Austin
- The Dunciad: Book II. poem – Alexander Pope
- In The Arc Of Your Mallet by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
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).
