Play On
I sing in a voice weakened by shouting,
A voice weakened by hunger,
By tears,
By sickness;
Hear my song; I shall sing in spite of these.
I dance with feet wounded by asperity,
Feet blistered by marching,
By wandering,
By hard roads beneath them,
But I shall dance, in spite of this.
Play on, merry troubadours,
Today I dance and sing,
My pain to the wayside cast,
The fears of old a ragged coat.
Play on, merry troubadours,
Tomorrow's stamp is faint,
Life's flimsy lease an aphid's wing,
Quicksilver fortune's leanings vague.
A song becomes a dirge,
The dance a Danse Macabre,
But not today; live! Play!
Play on, merry troubadours!