Veritas
Within a mad forest,
Cold and humid like a cistern,
Goes an old man holding a lantern,
leaning on his walking stick and looking for truth.
His hand quivers, and the light with it.
Tired, on he goes, faithless. Then, stops, looks…
always, nothing. The forest is empty!…
“Let me find a true lie,
that would be truth enough, my God!”
There are also, in the forest, many children. Carrying
happily, every one, his own truth.
And on that truth in turn, when over-turned, a new
truth turned over, that truthfully says that it lies.
The old man trembles. The sun is sick. It snows.
Then he sits down and says, “The forest is empty:
Truth is, truth doesn’t exist.”
Then he contemplates the nonsense notion,
And sadly exclaims:
“And if that’s a lie as well, my God?…”