a poem that, years ago, was started by me and finished (completed?) by a friend.

a friend who was the first ever to read my first ever poems (poor guy)
a friend i lost somewhere in the maze that my life is ...well, hopefully only lost touch with...

Strange is truth, stranger is life,
Intertwined in strands of jute and silk
Juxtaposed in indescribable harmony
Unbalanced emotions, imperfect sensuosity

Whatever passion, knowledge, fame or pelf,
Not one will change his neighbors with himself.

The learned is happy Nature to explore
The fool is happy he knows no more,
The rich is happy in the plenty given,
The poor contents him with the care of heaven.

See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
The sot a hero, the lunatic a king;
The starving chemist in his golden views
Supremely blessed, the poet in his muse.

See some strange comfort every state attend
And pride bestowed on all, a common friend,
See some fit passion every age supply,
Hope travels thro’ nor quits us when we die.

Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law
Pleased with rattle; tickled with a straw
Some livelier play things give his youth delight
A little louder, but as empty quite;

Scarves, garters gold amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer books are the toys of Age,
Pleased with his bauble still, as that before
Till tired he sleeps, life’s poor play is o’er

- srinivas kuppa aka vasu

current song O Sole Mio by Andrea Bocelli