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
- Development of Indian English Poetry
- Ode to Beer, an Irish Song
- come, sun rays by Raj Arumugam
- 对于女权主义者
- Something by Robert Creeley
- Where My Sight Goes by Yvor Winters
- Владимир Маяковский – Строители коммуны (РОСТА)
- Vain
- Стефан Малларме – О, зеркало
- Нина Стожкова – Подарки деда Мороза
- Finis by Walter Savage Landor
- The Fiddler Of Dooney by William Butler Yeats
- Study in Hands by Théophile Gautier
- Олег Карелин – Фото
- The Hemp by Stephen Vincent Benet
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).
