 59.
Sing of the sadness that comes from the heart,
Sing of the mad air befouling the wind.
Knock out the rhythm of eagleeyed gladness
Punch up the foolish, pale drumhead of love.
And this above all, to yourself read through
And do not give out with the laughter or slaughter.
For man is a man and the woman is a shadow,
And led by a shadow he stumbles and falls,
Eternal as gold and bright as the bead of a star
The heart is in snow and melting water.
Don't grieve for a moment, for if all
Is sad as this moment is, then all is equal;
Your sadness and grieving are plane and coeval,
With all the gray happiness labeled and fabled,
And all an illusion through poor isingliass.
Be comforted, death will arrive with his muffler
And folding us all in the last latest fashion.
Will laugh at them all and split the delusion
Of life, so unworthy of mystical heat,
Life so unbalanced and simple as lead
No wonder the happiest people are dead.
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