Poem for The Dead Letter to The Dead Friends, nothing has changed in essence. Wages don't cover expenses, wars persist without end, and there are new and terrible viruses, beyond the advances, of medicine. From time to time, a neighbor falls dead over questions of love. There are interesting films, it is true, and, as always, voluptuous women seducing us with their mouths and legs, but in matters of love we haven't invented a single position that's new.
Some astronauts stay in space, six months or more, testing equipment and solitude.
In each Olympics new records are predicted and in the countries social advances and setbacks. But not a single bird has changed its song with the times. Some habits, rivers, and forests are lost. Nobody sits in front of his house anymore or takes in the breezes of afternoon, but we have amazing computers that keep us from thinking. On the disappearance of the dinosaurs and the formation of galaxies we have no new knowledge.