20. The decrepit dilettante
My love, I am sorry, but I am no good for you,
just a pathetic old invalid and maybe even a freak,
who has done nothing good in his life
and produced only failures,
like one of those parasite amateurs
who only turned out professionals
working like hell for no gain
and succeeding at nothing but wreckage.
Still, there is something in this utter mess
which was worth something in its vain effort,
a kind of idealism buried alive
under failures galore of disdained invalidity:
I did it all just for love,
even if that love only was constant in this,
that it failed, being cursed and doomed
to forever remain as alive as unlucky.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-08-15 at 11:00
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