Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Do not accept death quietly and peacefully, Old age should fight fiercely as the day ends; Fight, fight against the fading of the light.
Though wise men know that darkness is inevitable, Because their words did not create any impact, Do not accept death quietly and peacefully.
Good men, at the end, lamenting how bright Their fragile actions could have shone in a beautiful place,
Fight, fight against the fading of the light. Wild men who enjoyed life and sang joyfully, And realize too late that they mourned its passing, Do not accept death quietly and peacefully.
Serious men, near death, who see clearly, Blind eyes could shine brightly like meteors and be joyful, Fight, fight against the fading of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad peak, Curse or bless me now with your intense tears, I ask. Do not accept death quietly and peacefully. Fight, fight against the fading of the light.