Subject: Re: Poem
From: "Robert Biden" <[email-masked]>
To: "Nancy Pinchera" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 10 Jun 2015 19:27:13 -0400

Beaubidenfoundation.org
For the Protection of Children
Temp site already exists- take a look.

RHB
202.333.1880

> On Jun 10, 2015, at 4:27 PM, Nancy Pinchera <[email-masked]> wrote:
> 
> Rick would be honored to come up with ideas for you (and Beau)
> We would need some general ideas from you first. What will be the mission of the foundation? 
> Nancy
> 
> 
> 
> 
> -------------------------------------------
> Nancy Pinchera
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
>> On Jun 10, 2015, at 4:24 PM, Robert Biden <[email-masked]> wrote:
>> 
>> Trying to come up with a logo for Beau Biden foundation-- any cool ideas from you or Rick?
>> 
>> RHB
>> 202.333.1880
>> 
>>> On Jun 10, 2015, at 4:10 PM, Nancy Pinchera <[email-masked]> wrote:
>>> 
>>> I bet your Dad would like this poem. I would like to imagine that he takes living very seriously:)
>>> 
>>> Nancy
>>> 
>>> On Living
>>> by Nazim Hikmet
>>> 
>>> I
>>> Living is no laughing matter:
>>> you must live with great seriousness
>>> like a squirrel, for example--
>>> I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
>>> I mean living must be your whole occupation.
>>> Living is no laughing matter:
>>> you must take it seriously,
>>> so much so and to such a degree
>>> that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
>>> your back to the wall,
>>> or else in a laboratory
>>> in your white coat and safety glasses,
>>> you can die for people--
>>> even for people whose faces you've never seen,
>>> even though you know living
>>> is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
>>> I mean, you must take living so seriously
>>> that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees--
>>> and not for your children, either,
>>> but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
>>> because living, I mean, weighs heavier.
>>> II
>>> Let's say we're seriously ill, need surgery--
>>> which is to say we might not get up
>>> from the white table.
>>> Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
>>> about going a little too soon,
>>> we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
>>> we'll look out the window to see if it's raining,
>>> or still wait anxiously
>>> for the latest newscast. . .
>>> Let's say we're at the front--
>>> for something worth fighting for, say.
>>> There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
>>> we might fall on our face, dead.
>>> We'll know this with a curious anger,
>>> but we'll still worry ourselves to death
>>> about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
>>> Let's say we're in prison
>>> and close to fifty,
>>> and we have eighteen more years, say,
>>> before the iron doors will open.
>>> We'll still live with the outside,
>>> with its people and animals, struggle and wind--
>>> I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
>>> I mean, however and wherever we are,
>>> we must live as if we will never die.
>>> III
>>> This earth will grow cold,
>>> a star among stars
>>> and one of the smallest,
>>> a gilded mote on blue velvet--
>>> I mean this, our great earth.
>>> This earth will grow cold one day,
>>> not like a block of ice
>>> or a dead cloud even 
>>> but like an empty walnut it will roll along
>>> in pitch-black space . . . 
>>> You must grieve for this right now
>>> --you have to feel this sorrow now--
>>> for the world must be loved this much
>>> if you're going to say "I lived". . .
>>> 
>>> 
>>> 
>>> 
>>> -------------------------------------------
>>> Nancy Pinchera
>=2