Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Theodore Stephanides
Mushroom Growers
There are so few who guess
Or realise the span
Of vastness that surrounds
The littleness of Man.
The many pen the World
Within their sences five,
Denying everything
They cannot yet contrive
To measure or to weigh,
To count or analyse
By some material means
On earth and the skies.
Man meddles nonetheless
With things no sense can tell,
Until a mushroom cloud
Is spouted up from hell!
(from "The Golden face", 1965)
Mushroom Growers
There are so few who guess
Or realise the span
Of vastness that surrounds
The littleness of Man.
The many pen the World
Within their sences five,
Denying everything
They cannot yet contrive
To measure or to weigh,
To count or analyse
By some material means
On earth and the skies.
Man meddles nonetheless
With things no sense can tell,
Until a mushroom cloud
Is spouted up from hell!
(from "The Golden face", 1965)