lan-choly

And so the baby was born. Asking from the world everything he needed. And the world provides it,    a breast to suck, a bosom to rest, a kiss to sleep. That baby is dead now. He has no epitaph After all, he owed the world something. And so the young child was born. Copying his parents, to they he has heeded. And the world approves it,    a new world to learn, a division table to solve, a friend to sleep. That young child is dead now. He has no epitaph. After all, he had to grow up. And so the juvenile was born. Searching the world with the curiosity he has been granted. And the world challenges it,    a revelation to be to