Death came to me one morning in the mirror Those livid lines beneath the eyes The greenish tincture of an upset liver The weariness of enterprise Of yet another day another guise. I saw him first on Ipanema’s shore Naked mid a cloud of flies And then blood-covered in the weld of war And sounding to a mother’s cries; Injustice Man and Nature both ignore. I saw the end thinking it can’t apply So early and to such as I Almost sixty and yet nothing done An unachieving life, a crime; So go I guilty to the end of mine. |