There’s so much interest to life
When you gain a small advantage
And feel that little joy of revenge,
Even if it’s small, but it usually is small,
Since small and petty is the object of your scorn:
She sneered. Now you loudly blow the golden horn.
Because there’s so much interest to life,
Your poem will never amount to much,
Which is good. Poems triumph in death. That’s what they’re for.
But this is life. Be careful before you walk out the door.
Make it known you have more dignity
Than her—soft! let her be the one who’s small.
There’s so much interesting revenge in life.
Life is amazing! Life has it all!
She’s not going to read your poems.
But you can plot a nice little revenge right now.
Poems won’t do that. Poems don’t know how.