Parisians and all peoples afflicted by these
Senseless and cowardly acts by terrorists
November thirteen two thousand and fifteen,
Do not vex yourselves exceedingly,
Mourn with strength and hope knowing that
Your loved ones’ lives, too quickly and so violently rushed
To the ground, unripe still,
Are not in vain.
Like leaves that fall to the ground
They circle to fertile the ground to
Produce more trees and leaves.
They cause us to make our world better.
Like fruits plucked and scattered in the fields
Before they’re ripe,
They’re green, hard and bitter to eat and swallow.
These lives were not ready to plummet.
Tempesting, the sight and sound is ugly,
Even the vultures despise and won’t partake
The hyenas too.
Woe betide thee, this doers,
Thou have no right to take a life
Thou who knoweth not how life began.
Wherefore inquireth I of thy lineage?
I hate thee not, but thy works I hate.
Let’s embrace love
For hate is too much a burden.
As they’re laid to rest
I know the stones will rest lightly on their bones
Lest it adds to their heavy burden
Of being hewn down too soon.
Your lives, friends, were never in vain.
Adieu!
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