We are the last generations; Surdas, Bach,
Rembrandt, Du Fu, all life, love, work and worth
Will end in the particular rain; no ark
Will screen its force, no prayer procure rebirth.
The government of nations is assigned
Sage, journeyman and lunatic by rota;
A couple of toxic madmen sting mankind
Each century; we won’t escape the quota.
Dead planet of an unimportant star,
Beautiful earth, whose radiant creation
Became too radiant, no further war,
No suffering, frenzy or recrimination
Will litter your denatured crust or mar
Your deepening entropy with agitation.
from Summer Requiem by Vikram Seth
Juvenilia 