Article published in: Thinking in Value (No 2) Agathology, pp. 229 – 257
Hope is the mother of the dumb, sister of fools,
those who don’t know how
to count their chances
aunt of disheveled beautiful souls, who
easily forget every loss
cousin of failures who lose
themselves at every turn
confidant of madmen who await
miraculous turns of fate
Those who stand solidly on their two feet
need no hope
they calmly wait for tomorrow to bring them,
without fail, a handful of yesterday’s joys.
For them everything has already come true.
When they awake in their beds, free
of doubts, the sweetness of the dawn
of the world, which has passed, greets them.
