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 :)