poem

a loveless world is mean and petty,
a loveless life is life a yoke
in loveless homes knives wont cut breadloaves
the house is blackened with smoke

and someone with a blunted hatchet
chops slivers off the logs of days
the imp of boredom climbs the curtain
and as it climbs, the curtain sways

and you dont understand how flowers
can grow before teh window pane
why you must wake up in the morning
and go to sleep at night again

a loveless life - one cant endure it
for all are free from all in it
all by yourself you gulp your tea down
all by yourself you eat your bit

you walk alone, alone you chuckle
and hoe the hard soil of your cares
it isnt something that can kill you
one can live on like that for years

no, certainly it cannot kill you...

- imants ziedonis
1964