Vanity

From the joy of birth

To the smile full of grief, a woman 

Brushes her long black hair to be a guest of Death. 

We, insanely,

Sing poetic songs for the vanity of existence.

And love, which we lament,

And bury,

And shed tears for,

Again returns to our hollow reality.

And again,

We laugh,

We cry,

And singpoetic songs

For the sake of loves that will bury us. 

23 November 2014