Room 168

October 8, 2016

finally you are: born
from weak womb, all misery
like flower to short life doomed
far from good and from rest;
may the day of your birth die,
and the churn’d earth where you fell,
may that black ground die, too.
Will you ever consider
how much a very day is worth?
certainly not: know, now,
that death and your days are rings
of the same chain; remember,
the only wise man is
the one who lives all hours
like the one where the bell tolls –
this, is what the rumble said.

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One Response to “Room 168”


  1. […] a pioggia (esce il Sogno della Camera Blu, entrano le Stanze della Notte): 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, […]


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