Happiness -poem

Leave me stranded in a smoggy city,

away from the Tropic sun,

out of reach of fame and wealth,

building, twig by twig, antlike,

our humble abode, and I

will be utterly happy.

Strip me of vain ambitions

of artistic transcendence,

and limit me to a peasant’s life,

by your side, and I will hold it

dearer than a mil masterpieces.


For when death is at the shore

and we settle our debts with ourselves,

our vainglorious goals are worth nil,

and all we worked for to avoid

the inevitable end, sightseeing

through life, instead of staring it

directly in the face, its ugly

unavoidably decrepit face,

then happiness will be out of reach,

and all we’ll have left

will be our hollow achievements.



I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.