TO LIFE
You steal the time that runs through my veins
and kidnap the moments of calm with outbursts of war.
Terror, pain, death: Is suffering your delight?
You devoured civilizations when empires fell.
Kneeled before you, kings and queens.
Nothing escapes your arrogant presence,
perverse irony growing among the stones.
I hear the bombs falling eastward on insignificant heads.
Indifferent to the wickedness of my kind,
your simple beauty on the plum blossoms.
In love, perhaps mad, I wept for you and I ask you:
Is it perhaps possible to stop loving you?
