“When Will I Find the Great Answer?”

The questions come, as they must.
Nature, dawning with light and poesy
Demands this of Ask Boz,
And stem to leaf, bough to branch,
Pistil to stamen, the answer must come from me.

Ah, is this the scope of my fate?
Ask: Answer; Question: Response?
Ask is to Questions as Boz is to answer?
Pregunta a contestar, bailarín a la danza?
Can it be that I will always have to answer
Pathetic mortal questions about finite fate?
Only this? Is this my doom?
Or will the great question someday come?
For that day, I will combine paper and ink,
Thought and intent, desire and execution,
And just the right mixture of coca-opium,
And I will give the answer
That creates the key
To unlock all the secrets
And leads to my total domination of the universe.
This I will do to oppress the people for themselves.



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