There is a thing so fragile:
spirit.
A racehorse with a trick knee;
a plowhorse, about to step on a nail.
Your deeds were so great, they defied the mind.
And next, we can hardly wait:
“I don’t care.”
what you achieved through tenacity.
“I don’t care any more.”
The mosques, the walls, the constructions of:
“Leave me alone.”
arose in one generation, fell in another,
remain, still.
What you dreamt, you reached:
“Go away.”
so fragile:
spirit.
© (copyright) Alistair Cockburn, 1987.
http://alistair.cockburn.us/There+is+a+thing+so+fragile%3a --typek se krome basnicek venuje i UML, ci spis naopak :)