Why won't you make me now who wants a life

    Inside your life？

    I fear you as a thief

    Stealing about the orchards¹ of my future，

    Green fruit glistening² above a starving creature.

    To increase the coin buried inside yourself

    You need exchange it for an alien wealth.

    Wealth being you？ I need to spend my hoard³

    On public conquests of a private world：

    Take drugs and chances， love recklessly， and build.

    I promise I'm your most famous bright adventure.

    My stanzas⁴ will collapse⁵， mere⁶ rooms in nature. . . .

    I understand： you dwell on agony，

    But there you'll shape your strongest poem， me.

    Your cry will play the tune⁷ ending my work

    As health plays boss over the art I serve.

    Not always helpless， some day I'll help you，

    And you'll be grateful for what I give to you.

    Fever， high blood pressure， and sleeplessness⁸？

    I've my beloved to cause me such distress⁹，

    And in my distress I find again denial——

    If I'm the father how can I stay the child？

    Make me， and as your face grows old

    You'll find in my face your face taking hold.

    That's vanity you call posterity¹⁰.

    Afraid the future bears what you want to see？

    Of what I could become but might not be.