Man is sick but he can’t rest
the dog sleeps all day, dreaming of running
Faith is never pure and rarely true
it takes a degree of intellect to behave that stupidly.
A family measures time in dogs and cats
but my stomach and bladder tell me the time
We of the low-style, vulgar horde:
can you imagine the boredom of being a god?
Life has never been so good
and I’ve never felt so bad
I am full of self-inflicted knowledge
I’m nothing, if not a contradictory man
Every translation begins and ends in failure
—ravishing portraits of otherwise
Walking around with the weight of his potential
The poet acts as a guide
Written for the dVerse prompt to break form with couplets, this piece let me use random lines I’d noted down over time. The first and penultimate lines link to their origin. The ‘vulgar-horde’ line is taken from Dante’s Inferno. The ‘translation’ line was definitely appropriated from somewhere now forgotten and the ‘ravishing portraits’ line is by Maria Popova.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
