(12/11/60 / Danbury, CT USA)

Future Generations

I confess this:
I have no hope.
The blind talk about an escape.
I see.
When the errors are consumed
The nothing will sit next to us
as our last companion.

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Den Nachgeborenen

Ich gestehe es:
Ich habe keine Hoffnung.
Die Blinden reden von einem Ausweg.
Ich sehe.
Wenn die Irrtümer verbraucht sind
Sitzt als letzter Gesellschafter
Uns das Nichts gegenüber.

User Rating: 2,8 / 5 ( 14 votes ) 89

Comments (89)

How Beautiful! Real Love Poetry! ! !
To my darling Gordon wherever you may be xx
Poverty is a curse, let all know
O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. beautiful sonnet love it great great 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ to my FAV list
Time and again I still enjoy this absolute classic poem, classic since the day he created this, simple words but containing a greatest read-appeal, so true, an immortal poem.
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