Ambigüedad de la catastrofe

I have really enjoyed Ángel González's poetry recently.  I think I read some of his stuff in a survey course, mixed in with the other "social" poets from 1950s Spain.  González is often rather biting with his irony, where as a Blas de Otero or Miguel Hernández would push for a certain portion of sincerity.  I think these four lines say more than they want to:

Lo había perdido todo:
amor, familia, bienes, esperanzas.
Y se decía sin tristeza;
¿no es hermoso, por fin, vivir sin miedo?

Let go of the windowed, glossy world.  It is much weirder than we want to think...