Depressing poems?

Question

what is the best poem about depression that you know?

It has to be a poem and not a book story

Answer 1

I favor "The Drinking Song of the Earth's Sorrow" by the Chinese poet Li Bai, who lived from 701 to 762. A German version of this (Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde) was set to music by Gustav Mahler as part of his symphonic song cycle "The Song of the Earth" (Das Lied von der Erde), which is a masterpiece of late romantic music.

One reason I really like this is that in spite of all the darkness, it isn't completely negative, not by a long shot. Here's an English translation by Alfred H. Meyer:

The Drinking Song of the Earth's Sorrow
===============================
Wine in the golden goblet is beckoning,
But drink not yet, first I will sing you a song!
The Song of Sorrow, let its mockery laugh itself into your soul.
When sorrow approaches, the soul's gardens lie desolate,
Joy and song wither and die.
Dark is life, is death.

Lord of this house! Thy cellar holds the fullness of golden wine!
Here, this lute I call mine own!
To play upon the lute, to empty glasses,
These are things that fit each other.
At the proper time a goblet full of wine
Is worth more than all the kingdoms of this earth!
Dark is life, is death!

The firmament in its eternal blue, and the earth,
These will long endure, will blossom in springtime.
But thou, O man, what is the span of thy life?
Not a hundred years art thou permitted to enjoy
The idle vanities of this earth!

Look there below! In the moonlight upon the graves
There crouches a wild, ghostly figure--
An ape it is! Hark how his howling
Shrills out into the sweet airs of this our life!

Bring on the wine! The time has come, my comrades!
Drain your golden goblets to the dregs!
Dark is life, is death!

Answer 2

I would recommend The Hollow Men by T.S. Elliot.

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer --

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Answer 3

All poems by Edgar Allen Poe that I've read are all depressing.

Answer 4

You want depressing poetry? Look at this page


http://search.aol.com/aolcom/search?&query=depressing%20poems&invocationType=TB40

Answer 5

I don't know what the best one is, but you can read some here.

Answer 6

Look through http://www.quizilla.com

It's full of poetry about depression, suicide, and all that kind of stuff.