This Life Of Ours
p. 32 · Read in the full issue
In a clearing hewn out of the jungle, By natives, with axes and knives, Is a hole in the ground, and a battery.
It is here we are spending our lives.
It is here we eke out our existence — Chopping-blocks for the numerous ills, Being eaten by bloodthirsty insects, Getting thin, climbing up and down hills.
Assailed with the odours of natives, Wa<y down in the bowels of the earth; Being bathed in our own perspiration— We ask ourselves, what is it worth!
When time allows us meditation These are some of the thoughts in our mind; When we started on civilisation, We left happiness far back behind.
Where civilised man meets the savage, He learns what is funny, but true: It is better by far to be savage Than work all your life for a “screw”.
Papua.