Hungry, and at what expense,
do I lecture in morals now,
putting what is wonderful aside
for what knows, stays, goes,
and in these depths understands, but shows
what we should do to be poor
and good and nothing more?
The poets rose up on Sunday and said,
“We will be your sermon, instead.”
We are far more relaxed now.
The diary of a scholar passes for a poem;
life was hard in Greece and Rome.
Today, abundance makes us crazy and glad.
We are happier than most. But still confused and sad.
I will eat and be sensual. Sleep, eat.
Morals is nothing but what is sweet.
The light is beautiful and bright.
Let your guard down. The mind
protects the normal, the sweet, the kind.
And does not fight.