The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing all the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying all the time
or maybe only starving some of the time
which isn't half bad if it isn't you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen
and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to.
Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics in the middle of the summer
and just generally 'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling mortician
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Esta poesia esta escrita en el espejo de mi cuarto. ¿No es re linda?
Etiquetas: Literatura |
posted by Florence at 
