The Treasure Ship returns to harbour.
The wave disappears without a trace.

Heureux qui, comme Ulysse,
a fait un beau voyage.

Happy the hero,
who dies full of years
under the tumulus
with his sword.

Happy the young man
who dies young
beloved of the Gods.

Happy, too, is Vanity.

The wave subsides without a trace.
Who will rejoice in its arising
and lament it in its passing?

Who will write its history
with words of vinegar and honey;
how it arose and how it pressed,
against an empty sky?

Who will cast flowers
on the empty ocean?


This entry was posted in Ego Ego God of the Jungle and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s