fwriction

Never has a poem felt more poignant, more appropriate, than does Auden’s poem today. That’s the brilliance of literature - seventy-one years have gone, but still the words carry such weight:

I sit in one of the dives

On Fifty-second Street

Uncertain and afraid

As the clever hopes expire

Of a low dishonest decade:

Waves of anger and fear

Circulate over the bright 

And darkened lands of the earth,

Obsessing our private lives;

The unmentionable odour of death

Offends the September night.