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.