It No Longer Matters If Anyone Loves Us
It no longer matters
if anyone loves us.
The love of the great angel
in his bright white sky
is enough.
Our children see him standing in the distance,
holding his hands in the shape of a heart
and they smile.
Our women see him waving a sprig of white jasmine
and close their eyes once
and forever.
Our men see his blue wings
as clear as a sky.
Their hearts are seized,
and they set out toward him.
It no longer matters
if anyone loves us.
Bombs have liberated us from our ears,
with which we used to hear words of love.
Rockets have liberated us from our eyes,
with which we used to see loving glances.
Hate-filled words have liberated us from our hearts,
in which we used to cherish the enchantments of love.
It no longer matters
if anyone, in this world, loves us.
“It seems to have been an unreciprocated love, anyway,”
say our elders, now exhausted by the idea of land.
Our poet stands on the distant horizon and proclaims:
“Save us from your cruel love!”
He then whispers, apologizing for an earlier, childish optimism:
“On this Earth,
nothing deserves life.”
It no longer matters
if anyone loves us.
We are tired of words, the said and the unsaid,
tired of hands that reach out but do not touch,
of eyes that see but do not see.
We are tired of ourselves in this endless night,
and tired of our mothers clinging to what’s left of us,
tired of this rock we carry on our backs,
this eternal curse.
From abyss to abyss, we carry it,
from death to death,
and we never arrive.
It no longer matters, after this, if anyone loves us,
or if anyone walks in our funerals.
Here we go in silence, toward the final abyss.
We hold each other’s hands,
go forth alone in this desert of a world.
At some moment, one of us, a child, will look back,
will cast one last glance at the ruins, and
shedding a single tear, will say:
“It no longer matters that anyone love us.”
źródło: Read A Little Poetry
10.09.2026