“On Living” by Nazim Hikmet

“On Living” by Nazim Hikmet

This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
          and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet—
        I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
        in pitch-black space . . .
You must grieve for this right now
—you have to feel this sorrow now—
for the world must be loved this much
                      if you’re going to say “I lived”. . .