Barren Lands Poem by Kostas Lagos

You ask me who I feel sorry for?
I 'll tell you my friend.
Just let me take the last sip
of my - warm by now - beer
I feel sorry for all those who
took the heavy title of the wise man
the philosopher, the intellectual
and made it a burden for themselves.
Those who ask questions, not to find
answers but only to hear their own
pompous query, those who are lost
in a sea of details but cannot drink
from the fountain of essence and stay thirsty.
Because the water that is offered to them
they don't even want to taste it and so
condemn themselves to live in the drought
of self-deification just like the desert's
baren lands