Oh, on summer mornings darting through
The county club's immense parking lot of
Antique cars restored with great affection
Or perfectly preserved: reds, greens, yellows,
As if snatched from the nearby flower beds,
And here the thwack of a struck tennis ball
Was heard, there a golf ball took to the air.
War das nicht eine schöne, schöne Zeit?
Oh, winter afternoons at the bowling alley
Down a flight of stairs from Diversey Avenue
Where outrageous transactions commonly
Took place; oh, and the movie theaters all
In walking distance of one another, the Covent,
The Century, the Lake Shore, and the Parkway,
Best loved of all, renowned for its decrepitude.
War das nicht auch eine schöne Zeit?
But oh, what has a beginning has an ending,
Said Senator Edward M. Kennedy at the time
Of his very grave brain tumor diagnosis. Alas,
But let's not make a federal case out of it.
As La Rochefoucauld observed, thinking of
Death, like staring at the sun, can't be done
For long, or shouldn't be. So grieve not. Oy.
Und hast du dich nicht so gut amüsiert?