To Be or Not to Be...

To live, or not to live, this is the ever present question:
Is it better to endure the pains of your thoughts
With your dismal fortune wrapped up in them
Or to use weapons against a sea of hardships,
And go against it to end all pains. To die -- is to rest--
Never again; and by resting, is stating that we kill
The heartache, and everyday challenges
That humans are prone to. It's an achievement
To wish for. To die -- is to rest.
To rest -- perhaps means to dream: that is the catch!
So in the rest of death, how can one dream
When they have already departed with life,
We must stop. There's the respect.
That makes a mess of life.
Who would want to deal with the pain and misery of time,
The oppressor's wrong, a confident being's humiliation,
The anguish of rejected love, the law's delay,
The inexperience of officials in general, and the dislike
That patient integrity takes from the unworthy
When he might make his final settlement
With a sharp knife? Who would bear these burdens,
To groan and sweat beneath a discontented life,
But the fear of what follows after death--
The unknown land, from whose borders
No adventurer returns, puzzles the mind,
And makes us carry the problems we have
Rather than drift to others we don't know about?
In this way, a conscience makes cowards of us all,
And in this way the natural beauty of making up your mind
Is hidden with the gray shadow of thinking,
And projects of great substance and importance,
And in this regard, their movement becomes erratic,
And lose the point of action. Wait!
The beautiful Ophelia! Goddess in your eyes
May all my sins be remembered.