WHOM the gods love, die young.
How the gods must hate most of
the old, old men to-day,
the rancid old men that don’t die
because the gods don’t want
them
won’t have
them
leave them to
stale on earth.
Old
people fixed in a rancid resistance
to life, fixed to the letter of the
law.
The gods, who
are life, and the fluidity of living change
leave the old ones fixed to
their ugly, cogged self-will
which turns on and on, the same, and is hell on
earth.