The demon in me's not dead, <br />He's living, and well. <br />In the body as in a hold, <br />In the self as in a cell. <br />The world is but walls. <br />The exit's the axe. <br />("All the world's a stage," <br />The actor prates.) <br />And that hobbling buffoon <br />Is no joker; <br />In the body as in glory, <br />In the body as in a toga. <br />May you live forever! <br />Cherish your life, <br />Only poets in bone <br />Are as in a lie. <br />No, my eloquent brothers, <br />We'll not have much fun, <br />In the body as with Father's <br />Dressing-gown on. <br />We deserve something better. <br />We wilt in the warm. <br />In the body as in a byre. <br />In the self as in a cauldron. <br />Marvels that perish <br />We don't collect. <br />In the body as in a marsh, <br />In the body as in a crypt. <br />In the body as in furthest <br />Exile. It blights. <br />In the body as in a secret, <br />In the body as in the vice <br />Of an iron mask.<br /><br />Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-demon-in-me/
