November 17th–We are Living a Dead Life

Every moment, we die,
Patricio Guzman’s movie told me:
Nostalgia for the Light.

Years ago, I was left dying,
Life seeping out,
Years later, I understood its meaning.

The noise around us is just noise,
Melodious music or hip-hop,
Love or hate, gratefulness is scarce.

Dying is not mourning,
This is how our human race lives,
We mourn, we move on.

Every moment we live is past,
It is moving away into the past always,
That sadness Sophocles heard on the Aegean.

On my forty-sixth birthday, I knew,
Sophocles was wrong; there’s no sadness,
Death is peace and death is happiness.

Sell me, sell everything of me away,
Bones and muscle, all money, pelf,
When nothing remains, I shall fly away.