ABRUPTO

13.6.11


EARLY  MORNING BLOGS
 
2041 -The Rest


O helpless few in my country,
O remnant enslaved!


Artist broken against her,
A-stray, lost in the villages,
Mistrusted, spoken-against.


Lovers of beauty, starved,
Thwarted with systems,
Helpless against the control;


You who can not wear yourselves out
By persisting to successes,
You who can only speak,
Who can not steel yourselves into reiteration;


You of the finer sense,
Broken against false knowledge,
You who can know at first hand,
Hated, shut in, mistrusted:


Take thought:
I have weathered the storm,
I have beaten out my exile.

(Ezra Pound)

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© José Pacheco Pereira
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