Poets that are bandits

It is very intellectually dangerous,

if the name of poets and quotes of what they say,

pop up frequently in your poems and songs.

You are not a scientist, you do not form a society of words.

What they have despoilt from life with passion---friend,

the booty of solemn bandits belong not to you, but to their own doom.

Poets are plunderers, and debauchers, friend.

But we only steal against the ignominious and from pain,

or from joys of own meditations.

Stealing from a hero in the same walk of life,

Do you wish to steal the tears from thieves too?

he who that has fallen so far against the world---

that he must steal with music? unfilled love? unfilled heart?

leave him in solitude! let him die in wretchedness, console him not!

let the river of tears flow...

worthy fallen heroes deserving a thief's demise and a thief's doom.

Oh, but I bid thee.

Never talk about the Freudian, theory of art, aesthetics.

Those Platonian and Neo-Platonian dreamers who babble and quibble,

pretending knowledge is beauty, Friend.

Perhaps have never slept with a beau or paramour, ha!

They are too afraid of the imaginary Laws of the world to steal,

from sorrow and tears they plunder not,

and call our pitiable pillage we hoard in mouth lies.

Let them speak, let them speak.

If a philosopher demands ye to speak the truth, poet.

Hum a tune, or keep silence.

You are a thief by and by, Poet friend!

And when grave of ignominy comes---these are your deserts.

Humming of the grave, and silence of the song...

the river of the Moon downpours.