Author Burton Watson On top of a snail's horn, what's there to squabble over,with this body no more enduring than sparks from a flint?Come riches, come poverty, be happy while you may—the man you never see laughing—he's a fool for sure! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments