Notepad of verses.
Though it be summer of next
Christmas think I if I be
and of the bells that ring
ring for a peace that's
long coming:
at last the least and last
few days of careless happiness.
For happiness has to be careless
to be happiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
HAPPINESS HAS TO BE CARELESS / TO BE HAPPINESS. I had not thought of that connection before but it strikes me a brilliant insight on a variety of levels. First, C-A-R-E itself is the enemy of happiness and poisons it. Sweep all care aside with the strength and confidence happiness gives you, and if you can't, you're not truly happy. (The last event in the life of Goethe's Faust is a confrontation with the personification of CARE. When he dispels care, he dies and in that glorious last scene is raised up in glory.) Second, care keeps us focused on self and not others. Third, care is unreal. It's a thought, air, nothing. It's gone for good.