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)