Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it, <br />My brother Shelley found it to be a place <br />Much like the city of London. I, <br />Who do not live in London, but in Los Angeles, <br />Find, contemplating Hell, that it <br />Must be even more like Los Angeles. <br /> <br />Also in Hell, <br />I do not doubt it, there exist these opulent gardens <br />With flowers as large as trees, wilting, of course, <br />Very quickly, if they are not watered with very expensive water. And fruit markets <br />With great leaps of fruit, which nonetheless <br /> <br />Possess neither scent nor taste. And endless trains of autos, <br />Lighter than their own shadows, swifter than <br />Foolish thoughts, shimmering vehicles, in which <br />Rosy people, coming from nowhere, go nowhere. <br />And houses, designed for happiness, standing empty, <br />Even when inhabited. <br /> <br />Even the houses in Hell are not all ugly. <br />But concern about being thrown into the street <br />Consumes the inhabitants of the villas no less <br />Than the inhabitants of the barracks.<br /><br />Bertolt Brecht<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/contemplating-hell/
