“Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.” W. Shakespeare, Hamlet All men and women are mad and Only madness can keep us normal In this frantic world. Some hide their madness by religious zeal and fervour, Others by art and craft, Gardening and meticulous housekeeping, Then by arranging books in colours And by keeping the order of all things, Pencils, diaries, post-its and pins. And the rest of us, obvious lunatics, We can't hide our chaotic minds: They are seen in the mess on our desks and bags, Our wrinkled clothes and discordant colours, Shabby, underlined books with dog ears. This madness has a method in it, This madness saves us from the world. Futility The strength of mind is opposed To the weakness of the body A rock is turned into dust When the pain comes from The source of its joy. The pain and joy collide And crash the stone In little particles Irreversible pieces Useless to you Nuisance to me And to the world. But there must be some sense Of this irredeemable transformation A sense which escapes us. And this escape makes the pain bigger And we ask vain questions why us and what this life is for. Bio: Petar Penda is a professor of English and American literature (University of Banja Luka) and a translator. His translations have been published in renowned journals in the USA and the UK. His poetry was published by "Fevers of the Mind", " Lothlorien Poetry Journal", "A Thin Slice of Anxiety", "Trouvaille Review" and others.
Loved reading“futile “ especially.