Brain, work now as well as you can. <br />A one-sided passion is destroying him. <br />He's in a maddening situation. <br />Every day he kisses the face he worships, <br />his hands are on those exquisite limbs. <br />He's never loved before with this degree of passion. <br />But the beautiful fulfillment of love <br />is lacking, that fulfillment is lacking <br />which both of them must want with the same intensity. <br /> <br />(They aren't equally given to the abnormal form of sensual pleasure; <br />only he is completely possessed by it.) <br /> <br />And so he's wearing himself out, all on edge. <br />Then—to make things worse—he's out of work. <br />He manages somehow to borrow <br />a little here and there (sometimes <br />almost begging for it) and he just gets by. <br />He kisses those adored lips, excites himself <br />on that exquisite body—though he now feels <br />it only acquiesces. And then <br />he drinks and smokes, drinks and smokes; <br />and he drags himself to the cafés all day long, <br />drags the weariness consuming his beauty. <br />Brain, work now as well as you can.<br /><br />Constantine P. Cavafy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-young-poet-in-his-24th-year/
