Kafka had his dying wish ignored… and the worlds literature is all the better for it…Bringing this verse from a few years back in Prague back to the site!
Burn them all, the words that I have written
When this, my life, it has come to an end
An earnest request made by Frank Kafka
Solemnly to his good friend.
That man, to spite his genius to him unknown
Thought his written words, his stories, not good
His life’s writing seemed to him but a waste
Be burned on death his writings should.
It seems his friend to him did not listen
And after Kafka’s death did not do the deed
One wonders, does his soul roam Josefovs streets unhappy
A an enthralled world his unworthy words they read?