In this poem, there is no mention of music, so what could be better than a tight blues? Nothing, I say, and here it is for you—a blues...

JOHNNY WINTER BAND- "SWEET PAPA JOHN" (1975)

And here is also the auspicious poem for a spectacular 2020:

"Fine del ’68" by Nobel Prize winner Eugenio Montale (not just any old thing)

I contemplated from the moon, or almost,
the modest planet that contains
philosophy, theology, politics,
pornography, literature, sciences
manifest or arcane. Inside there’s also man,
and I among them. And everything is very strange.

In a few hours it will be night and the year
will end among explosions of sparkling wine
and firecrackers. Perhaps bombs or worse,
but not here where I am. If someone dies
it doesn’t matter to anyone as long as they are
unknown and far away.