It is not advised to weep for the children of your enemies,
            though if you do it in the privacy
                        of your home,              who can judge you?

And no one can tell you the order of action
is for the greater good
            if little seems in order, if even less
                                                             seems good.

                                    Oh, night is a compelling orator,
                          the jasmines flicker on and off.

When your enemy sees your fig trees,
he will be reminded of his son’s uneven hair,      
            but in your brother he will find
only a poor imitation.

Do not let anyone catch you burying the body.

                                    Hide his body in your own
                        until the lights go out,
then pray for negligence, black sails
             left unchanged,
                                    dull spot in the electric fence.

If you do not speak up for the body,
            the wrong person will speak for it.

Numberless labors await
an emptied will.        
                                   And who can say
if the mind is worse than what’s out there
                                                 circling the night.