I do not bury dead doves.
I do not share my bread with ants.
I do not invent a grave for my memories.
I do not offer my other cheek to anyone.
If I do not bury dead doves,
if I renounce all my past wounds,
And even threw away my crutch.
Were it not for this sad verse
nailed to my side..
Life how dare you set me sailing
towards nowhere?
Should the angular flight of a seagull
provide me with better ideas: I am caught unaware.
My anguish I have anchored on the shoreline,
the oar was broken just as I was leaving the island.
If I neither offer a bed to the transient,
nor bury dead doves.
Refuse to frequent cemeteries.
Is it pertinent to help the needy?
To love your cage?
Isn't it pertinent to pick up
a fallen nest of birds?
Remain still in front of a jailed bird?
Wipe away doubts from the foreheads
of the non-believers?
How could I know? Perhaps if I believed in Heaven.
Is it possible to offer a cup of sun to a blind man?
I don't believe in Christian totems.
I do not bury dead doves.
I do not visit cemeteries.
Is it necessary to offer hope
to those left without illusions?
Offer hope to a soldier who marches to his death
never knowing why he must obey murderous orders?
It is necessary for me to transfer
my blood to the starved?
Or to offer my ear to the deaf?
Why must I love a God who hates me
and thus kiss the crucifix in my disdain?
In each hour a crumb of hope
shall be given to the destitute.
Oh Life why must I feel guilty
simply out of a wish
to stir hidden ashes?
And I'm tired of this Earth,
and I'm tired of this Heaven
I'm being lied about.
And of this heart that I wish I could toss
into some starving dog's dinner bowl
seek refuge in a far away burrow,
and see if time returns my heart to me.
This is exactly the time in which I ask:
What precisely is my life worth?
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