The shrewd one, so he thinks he is: the
boaster, gossiper, the sad
one: is who he really is.
Helpless to predict his next laborious task,
next step...move!
He simply stands still.
Lazy as the day is long—and night!
Wider than a whale, far out to sea.
Unfortunately, he’s my son-in-law!
Atheist, lightly touched by the devil, he’s
nothing but trouble.
I repeat: he’s a boaster, gossiper, and what
little he really knows
proves a little more than gossip,
other than day from night.
What he makes up along the way, is by no
means his own, boasting
belonging to the devil’s crowd.
His walled-in head, and thoughts, and under
whose earth he will be
buried, he
buried, he
Laughs: as if he is unconscious to the fact,
that there is such a
being called the devil, and for that matter, God.
And so
I say, with all sincerity and sorrow, let the wrenched be with
the wrenched, the fools with the fools, all doors sooner or later
close.
#3875 (4-24-2013)
