The original poem is in Italian, but I think some of the desolation comes through in English.
Do enjoy a good wallow in hopelessness!
Oblivion
Yes, I am full of years, though my hair
Has not yet become frosted, nor my back curved;
But thinking over the course of my life
My memory shivers, and I cannot find myself.
Inside my heart I can find neither yearnings nor remorse,
Nether sorrow nor anger.
Abandoned and tired, overwhelmed, like
An ice-wrecked ship beyond all human help,
A slow oblivion invades me.
Days pass, and months, and years,
And I do not know it,
Feeling nothing any more.
And if sometimes it happens that
I come back almost to myself
I cannot believe it,
Ashamed to find myself alive.
****
Oh dear.
Still, never mind.
At least things aren't that bad, are they?
The original Italian of this poem (and a different translation) can be found HERE.
Word To Use Today: lost. The Old English losian meant to perish.
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