It is said by men wiser than me,
that each generation must find its own language,
before it can tell its tales.
But the language of overcoming tiredness by drinking coffee,
and the syntax of everyday life,
is not one that would inspire poetry.
It inspires stillness,
homogenous days breeding more of their kind.
If I wrote of great cannons,
I would be a romantic idolizing war.
If I wrote of the trouble of surviving,
I would be a pampered whelp whining.
We are so bored,
that we must go insane to stay sane.
Because we cannot fight or rebel or die,
we must fear the shadows of a crowd of people,
we must show contempt towards the Ikea-generation we are.
Life can be simple when difficult,
and very complex when easy.
It is not by bullets,
but by the slow winding of time that we will perish,
before our time,
since we cannot stand the stillness anymore.
- Kirjaudu tai rekisteröidy kommentoidaksesi
Kommentit
What a marveillous picture of the time we're living. Language is fluent, forvard, and clever. And most of all true.
I like the last 4 rows and their simple statement, which you are bound to believe.
No huhuh hei hienoa kielenkäyttöä nyt kyllä! Englanti ihan soljuu. Ensimmäinen säkeistö nappasi heti mukaansa ja kaikki tuntuu seuraavan sitä kuin luonnostaan. Tässä on ajatusta ja näin englannin kielen opiskelijana ihan sydän pomppaa sanataituruudestasi.
What a marveillous picture of the time we're living. Language is fluent, forvard, and clever. And most of all true.
I like the last 4 rows and their simple statement, which you are bound to believe.
No huhuh hei hienoa kielenkäyttöä nyt kyllä! Englanti ihan soljuu. Ensimmäinen säkeistö nappasi heti mukaansa ja kaikki tuntuu seuraavan sitä kuin luonnostaan. Tässä on ajatusta ja näin englannin kielen opiskelijana ihan sydän pomppaa sanataituruudestasi.