On Living #


This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
	 and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet-
	 I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
	 in pitch-black space ...
You must grieve for this right now
-you have to feel this sorrow now-
for the world must be loved this much
		    if you're going to say ``I lived'' ...

				N. Hikmet (1948)