I am a man with no ambitions <br />And few friends, wholly incapable <br />Of making a living, growing no <br />Younger, fugitive from some just doom. <br />Lonely, ill-clothed, what does it matter? <br />At midnight I make myself a jug <br />Of hot white wine and cardamon seeds. <br />In a torn grey robe and shapeless hat, <br />I sit in the cold writing poems, <br />Drawing naked figures in the crooked margin, <br />Fornicating with the insatiable <br />Virgins of my imagination.<br /><br />Marcus Valerius Martialis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-advantages-of-learning/
