DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Quiero iniciar este blog con el mejor (para mí) poema que he leído en mucho tiempo. Es de Dylan Thomas, un poeta nacido en Gales y que no solo fue poeta, sino que dio un profundo paseo por los diferentes géneros literarios, incluyendo el guión de cine. Fue conocido como "el maudit", "el gran maldito" o "el último maldito" el apodo que reciben automáticamente todos los poetas borrachos, noctámbulos, disipados o indiscutidamente geniales. Sus últimas palabras fueron: "he bebido 18 vasos de Whisky, creo que es todo un record".

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

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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.