Though Life has lost its meaning
And Time goes on the same,
Yet I’ll not stop my dreaming
For that would be a shame.
Through thoughts that throw a guided path
And other things they turn from,
With these I’ll choke my stony wrath
A pick a little tune to hum.
Sometimes I find that Love is like
A rocky path that’s full of snares
Or even like a spiny pike
That leaves your hand so full of tears.
And, oftentimes, I will have tried
To be someone I’m not,
And, just as often, I will have cried
Because I’m just a dot.
I’m no one; I’m nobody; I don’t matter:
But still I hear my little lies.
I can’t please myself; I can’t flatter:
I’ll still be no one when I die.
(written in 1965)