If your heart was an empire, how would you
defend it from the vast armies of heartless marauders
or would you just hand it over like tranquil waters?
Look you mass murderers; it's here for the taking drink.
Drink your fills have done, and kills, me at your—will
I am but dust, the clay, the vessel in your hands.
You'd break before baking in the kiln-
or even being moulded or made.
Should I build a Great Wall of China?
Or should—like I say, be just-calm tranquil water?
Ah, every tsunami vilified has these unnatural events.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem