Reading his poetry was like walking through history and hearing, through the words of a poet, a first-hand account of the reaction of the people who were living at the time. He lived in a time when the world was only 2-million years old, when science rather than saving humanity had shown how truly dangerous technology could be, when our world was consumed with wars.
Hands at work.He grew up in the Czech Republic where a statue of Jan Hus stands as a reminder to the failings of the Western church and a religious system. And he writes:
Hands at love.
Hands at death.
Hands playing a violin.
Hands on the trigger in the aircraft of Hiroshima.
Hands in prayer. (Hands)
The dead philosophy studentAnd my personal favorite:
testifies louder
than debates in the vortex of human pillar of fire
which will sweep through Prague
till the end of the history of this city steeped in fire
and blood
where John Huss has preached in vain
for over five centuries:
'He that will not serve truth, conscience and humanity
shall lose his power.' (Ballad of Jan Palach, Student and Heretic)
When my hair was black,Simply delightful! I am glad the person who listed this on e-Bay didn't know that it was a rare, hard to find book that usually sells for more.
all here below seemed ill-arranged.
When it became grey,
slowly my eyes opened.
Now when my hair is white,
I see eternity in every moment. (Ballad of Hair)
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