Why pronounce the names of gods, stars,
froth of an invisible ocean,
pollen from the most distant gardens?
If life aches us, if each day comes
tearing us apart, if each night
falls convulsed, assassinated.
If the grief of an unknown person
grieves us, but he is
always present, and is the victim
and the enemy and love and all
that we need in order to be whole.
Never say that the darkness is yours,
don’t drink joy down with a single swallow.
Look about you: there is the other, there is always the other.
The air he breathes chokes you,
what he eats is your hunger.
He dies with the purest half of your death