Here we are again, bro, just you and me. Same kind of moon and same kind of jungle. Real number 10 night, remember? Whole platoon, 32 men chopped into meat, and we walk out, just you and me. Nobody else. Right on top, bro. Not a scratch. Not a fucking scratch. You know, whoever got you, he'll come back again, and when he does, I'm gonna cut your name right into him. I'm gonna cut your name into him.
“Here at last is a true lover,” said the Nightingale. “Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.”
And they grieve for their dead. Such raw sorrow. Can't partake. Mine would flood oceans. It would drown me. If I let it out.
Ce n’est pas toujours cœur qui se lamente
Le plus douloureux.
Ni toujours celui qui rit et qui chante
Le moins soucieux.
Et j’attends enfin leurs remèdes.
Pour ne pas mourir au soleil,
Mourir sans espoir au soleil!
J’attends qu’ils lavent mes yeux tièdes
Où tant de pauvres ont sommeil!
We made a cruel world. My generation, my parents' generation. Too little caring. Too much hate, anger, and hurt. We talk a good game about protecting our children, but we leave too much on the table that might surely save their lives. Justin Foley died of a disease that, from its inception, thrives in silence. And there are a number of such diseases, a number of ills that thrive when we are silent about them. Because we let our fears, our shame, our twisted moral codes keep us in silence, as death stalks more children. I say, enough. Enough shifting blame. Enough pointing fingers. Enough confusing those who report the demage with those who cause it. Let us remember Justin for his accomplishments on the football field and the basketball court. Let us remember his smile that I am told melted a hundred hearts. But let's also remember his death with sorrow and determination that spur us to action.
Explanation:
Justin was HIV-infected, and without proper therapy, he developed AIDS.
Can a mother sit and hear,
10An infant groan an infant fear —
No no never can it be.
Never never can it be.
And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
15Hear the small birds grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear—
And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infants tear.
And not sit both night & day,
Wiping all our tears away.
O! no never can it be.
Never never can it be.
If those tulips you planted come up and see only me standing there, they will go back into the ground again.
Bewahret einander vor Herzeleid
Denn kurz ist die Zeit die ihr beisammen seid.
Bewahret einander vor der Zweisamkeit.
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