Dance there upon the shore;
what need have you to care
for wind or water’s roar?
And tumble out your hair
that the salt drops have wet;
being young you have not known
the fool’s triumph, nor yet
love lost as soon as won,
nor the best labourer dead
and all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
the monstrous crying of wind?
Has no one said those daring
kind eyes should be more learned?
I have found out how despairing
the moths are when they are burned,
but I am old and you are young,
so we speak a different tongue.
Oh, you will take whatever’s offered
and dream that all the world’s a friend,
suffer as your mother suffered,
be as broken in the end.
I could have warned you – but you are young,
and I speak a barbarous tongue.
William Butler Yeats
Picture: Fuji X-PRO3 – 35mm – ISO 800 – f/5.0 – 1/100sec