Armand Point - L'Automne, 1893.
This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring.
The light of autumn: you will not be spared.
This is the light of autumn, not the light that says
I am reborn.
Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered.
This is the present, an allegory of waste.
So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate:
the ideal burns in you like a fever.
Or not like a fever, like a second heart.
The light of autumn: you will not be spared.
This is the light of autumn, not the light that says
I am reborn.
Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered.
This is the present, an allegory of waste.
So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate:
the ideal burns in you like a fever.
Or not like a fever, like a second heart.
Louise Glück, from Poems 1962-2012
Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in.
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