My father in downtown red
Walked around like a shadow
Of ink black, with hat, nodding,
In the immemorial lights of my dreams.
For I have since dreamt of Lowell
And the image of my father,
Straw hat, newspaper in pocket,
Liquor on the breath, barber shopshines,
Is the image of Ignorant Man
Hurrying to his destiny which is Death
Even though he knows it.
‘S why they call Cheer,
a bottle, a glass, a drink,
A Cup of Courage –
Men know the mist is not their friend –
They come out of fields & put coats on
And become businessmen & die stale
The same loathsome stale death
They mighta died in countryside
Hills of dung.
My remembrance of my father
in downtown Lowell
walking like cardboard cut
across the lost lights
is the same empty material
as my father in the grave.
103rd Chorus
© Copyright: Джек Керуак, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111011109289
Свидетельство о публикации №111011109289
Рецензии