книгата я имаме вкъщи, навремето е по нея имало и театрална постановка по театрите ни, така че името ми е познато. почина преди няколко години (повече от 5, може би) и имаше негова снимка в един вестник - красив в старостта си, с американско знаме на коженото яке с ресни... филмът също не съм гледала още... а Фърлингети е единственият жив поет-битник (понеже темата тръгна в посока на писателите-битници), създател на книжарницата и печатница "City Lights Books" в Сан Франциско и автор на редица бунтарски и социални стихотворения (едно от които го имаше доскоро и в гимназиалните учебници:

The world is a beautiful place to be born into
If you don't mind happiness no always being so much fun
If you don't mind a touch of hell now and then just when everything is fine
Because even in heaven they don't sing all the time.

The world is a beautiful place to be born into
If you don't mind some people dying all the time
Or maybe only starving some of the time
Which isn't half so bad if it isn't you.

Oh, the world is a beautiful place to be born into
If you don't mind a few dead minds in the higher places
Or a bomb or two now and then in your upturned faces
Or other such improprieties as our Name Brand society is prey to
With its men of distinction and its men of extinction...
And its various segregations and congressional investigations
And other constipations that our fool flesh is heir to.

Yes, the world is the best place of all for a lot of such things, as
Making the fun scene, and making the love scene and making the sad scene
And singing low songs and having inspirations
And walking around looking at everything and smelling flowers and goosing statues
And kissing people and making babies and wearing pants and waving hats and dancing
And going swimming in rivers on picnics in the middle of the summer
And just generally 'living it up'

Yes, but then right in the middle of it
Comes the smiling mortician.)

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