City

I dreamed the sun was too bright

And hiding in darkness I could not see.

Are we the blind leading the blind?

Or does some divine light illumine you

Which I miss in myself?

How can a person be familiar who you have never met

Or homelike who you have never come home to?

I tread concrete amidst buildings

Which do not acknowledge my soul.

The heaven which does not see decay

And rescues purity from corruption

Is a city, and so the city for its great glory

Is both better and worse than the country.

But the days are evil.

What if I never came back?

How long after I left would you still love me?

If I stayed here

In this fallen heaven

In which I cannot see the sky

And this distorted reflection stares back at me

From every window.

Nothing stays as it is

But moves imperceptibly toward paradise or damnation

And I willingly choose misery.

How can I bear them (the children) if my limbs are so heavy?

Or if I stare at myself

As if my reflection knew something I didn’t

When a word cannot define itself?

You cannot tell me what to do

Only receive me

When I come home.