‘What is pleasure but a pipe?’
‘What’s this world without its pleasure? / What is pleasure but a pipe?’ (from W. H. Logan, ‘Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads’)
[Read the whole poetry after the pictures. Photos taken on 25.11. 2012, Vörösmarty tér, down-town Budapest. And don't forget: click on each photo to enlarge it!]
THE PIPE OF TOBACCO
(from W. H. Logan, ‘Pedlar’s Pack of Ballads’) [link]
Why should life in sorrow be spent,
When pleasure points to the road,
Wherein each traveler with content,
May throw off the ponderous load?
And instead, in ample measure,
Gather fruits too long left ripe;
What’s this world without its pleasure?
What is pleasure but a pipe?
See the sailor’s jovial state,
Mark the soldier’s noble soul;
What doth heroes renovate?
What refines the splendid bowl?
Is it not tobacco dear,
That from the brow fell grief can wipe?
Yes! Like them with jolly cheer,
I find pleasure in a pipe.
Some are fond of care and grief,
Some take pleasure in sad strife,
Some pursue a false belief;
Few there are that enjoy life.
Some delight in envy ever,
Others avaricious gripe;
Would you know our greatest pleasure?
‘Tis a glowing social pipe.