<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429668" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ragnarok</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our Trojan world is polarised to mourn;<br>To dream and find a black spot on the sun,<br>And wake to love and find our lover gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The destination of any weapon is grief.<br>In homesteads now where joy must seem naive<br>Under a splitting sky our women conceive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The towns of houses, massed security<br>Out-generalled by a later century,<br>Are hearse-plumes on an old economy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ache of crushed walls when the raid is over.<br>This is a house, we said, we have built forever:<br>A two-backed fool, thinking of one day's weather.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only one monster has to love his error.<br>Only his wrangling heart cannot recover,<br>But glories in illusion when half cadaver;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or likes being ill, or nurses grievances,<br>Or calls a mountain or a forest 'his',<br>Or quarrels in five hundred languages.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And man, erect, unvenerable,<br>A bloodshot eye so simply vulnerable<br>That half his history is marginal,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Incises stone in the Bastille of hate:<br>'Give us this day before it is too late<br>Something to love indeed, enough to eat.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Kenneth+Allott">Kenneth Allott</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429668" data-title="Ragnarok de Kenneth Allott" data-description="Our Trojan world is polarised to mourn; To dream and find a black spot on the sun, And wake to love and find our lover gone. The destination of any weapon is grief. In homesteads now where joy must seem naive Under a splitting sky our women conce..."></div> </div> </div>

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