Maria, if life is fragile, illusory,
And devoid of meaning,
So that even “Maria” is only a word,
Remember death is also meaningless
And just as absurd.
Maria, this thought
Will make you less afraid
Of every previous thought—
Death looking around
At the gathering shade—
So everything you sought,
In sadness, is the reverse
Of what it doesn’t know,
Its empty purse
Real only by its empty cry
Which cannot live, cannot know, and also cannot die.
Helpless death, Maria, terrified
Your helplessness—you were helpless twins,
And yet you tried
To make death a king—
Not understanding life forever wins,
In one existence, which is everything.