Pansies (Lawrence)/Dies Iræ

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DIES IRÆ
Even the old emotions are finished,we have worn them out.And desire is dead.And the end of all things is inside us.
Our epoch is over,a cycle of evolution is finished,our activity has lost its meaning,we are ghosts, we are seed;for our word is deadand we know not how to live wordless.
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We live in a vast housefull of inordinate activities,and the noise, and the stench, and the dreariness and lack of meaningmadden us, but we don't know what to do.
All we can know, at this momentis the fulfilment of nothingness.Lo, I am nothing!
It is a consummation devoutly to be wishedin this world of mechanical self-assertion.

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