Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Amir Or

SOME SAY LIFE

Some say life is continuing in the face of the alternative;  
some say – conquest; some stretch an equals sign   

between life and its absence; and some say that life
was given us to serve those       whose lives

are not a life.  I say: you.
And this is easily explained: once again night envelops

what can be seen.  At home lamps are lit.  And in the light there’s no glance  
except the one from the mirror, nothing except what sees me

seeing it; and it brings not release but longing, not death    
but life.  And I remove my gaze from the warm and the cold – night envelops everything –

and I long for the one who sees me through touching,    
and I don’t remember a thing.  Only this.

SOME SAY LIFE

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SOME SAY LIFE

Some say life is continuing in the face of the alternative;  
some say – conquest; some stretch an equals sign   

between life and its absence; and some say that life
was given us to serve those       whose lives

are not a life.  I say: you.
And this is easily explained: once again night envelops

what can be seen.  At home lamps are lit.  And in the light there’s no glance  
except the one from the mirror, nothing except what sees me

seeing it; and it brings not release but longing, not death    
but life.  And I remove my gaze from the warm and the cold – night envelops everything –

and I long for the one who sees me through touching,    
and I don’t remember a thing.  Only this.

SOME SAY LIFE

Some say life is continuing in the face of the alternative;  
some say – conquest; some stretch an equals sign   

between life and its absence; and some say that life
was given us to serve those       whose lives

are not a life.  I say: you.
And this is easily explained: once again night envelops

what can be seen.  At home lamps are lit.  And in the light there’s no glance  
except the one from the mirror, nothing except what sees me

seeing it; and it brings not release but longing, not death    
but life.  And I remove my gaze from the warm and the cold – night envelops everything –

and I long for the one who sees me through touching,    
and I don’t remember a thing.  Only this.
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