Monday, September 07, 2009
Let it live!
In my country, we prefer the tender hardships of spring and its barely-feathered birds to lofty goals.
Truth is waiting for dawn beside a candle. The window is filthy and neglected. But this doesn’t matter to the one keeping vigil.
In my country, we don’t question an emotional man.
There isn’t a dark shadow on the capsized boat.
Practically not saying hello is unknown in my country.
We only borrow that which can be given back many times over.
There are leaves, - yes, many leaves - on the trees in my country. The branches are free not to choose to bear fruit.
We don’t believe in the goodwill of the conqueror.
In my country, we give thanks.