Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
Let's please our time, to posterity....
To wait for a century or two: what does the interval matter;
Let us leave to the future our Immortality...?
We will not be there anymore, but who knows, under the slab,
Will we rejoice that Time dedicates
Some pleasant aspects in our memory;
Judged by our nephews, but in absentia,
Since only our spirits can warn us.
Brothers in poetry, let us plead common cause,
For if our folly in the rhymer's codes
May thus reap, later, some fortune,
It is in the spirit of body and in the good mood
That we must work for our passion.
Let us dream in solitude and united by the pen,
Even against the current, in creation:
The poet is mortal, his science exhumes him.
Let us pray, my dear friends, that the posthumous Muse
Is not buried as the author will be,
Knowing that, very often, since it is the custom,
If one is recognized, it is only by the Lord.
If posterity returns the honor that is due,
That comes knocking at our door;
In our Paradise we will have waited
Not gnawed by our worms, and that a hope peddles.
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