Fjölmiðlafrumvarpsmálinu lokið, þessar ljóðlínur eru tileinkaðar ríkisstjórninni:
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
…
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
…
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
Síðan er gott að umorða niðurlag ljóðsins:
Þessu lýkur ekki með hvelli heldur stunu.