Rest / Ezra Pound

Rest

Ezra Pound


O helpless few in my country, remnant enslaved!


Artists broken against her,

A-stray, lost in the villages,

Mistrusted, spoken-against,


Lovers of beauty, starved,

Thwarted with systems,

Helpless against the control;


You who can not wear yourselves out

By persisting to successes,



You who can only speak,

Who can not steel yourselves into reiteration;


You of the finer sense,

Broken against false knowledge,