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O Me! O Life!O Me O Life
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
About the endless lines of untrustworthy people, about cities full of foolish people, About me always blaming myself, (for who is more foolish than I, and who is more untrustworthy?) About eyes that hopelessly seek the light, about the unimportant things, about the struggle that never ends, About the poor results of everything, about the slow and dirty crowds I see around me, About the empty and useless years of others, with me mixed in with them, The question, Oh me! so sad, keeps coming back—What good is there in all this, Oh me, Oh life?
Answer. That you are here—that life exists you have your own sense of self,