By Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dan: Thanks. You are too funny! LOL.
Polona: Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.
Gingatao: Thanks. He does indeed. Great way to describe Dylan Thomas.
Dylan Thomas had an almost mystical connection to the way emotion is carried in sound. His poetry is like instrumental music, the meaning of the words is just detail ornamenting the capacity of English to express the fundamental through the sound and rhythm.
one of my all time favourites.
thanj you for sharing
Yeah. And not only this, but by way of Robert Zimmerman, he’s spawned innumerable Dylans.