Aubade on All Fronts
Among the red phenomena of morning,
crimson puddles in the mud,
the blind unmindful forwarding of water,
new light arriving after the storm.
To closed eyes the sun is the color of blood
in the vermilion morning.
How much younger we were at dawn,
before what was done, without pity or love,
as blindly as the forwarding of water.
Devils and angels, husband and lovers are fallen
into spreading puddles in the mud
among the red occurrences of morning.
Why do we never remember the dead dawns,
dread coming suddenly in floods
as blindly as the forwarding of water?
Against the background of the land's misfortune,
another war is fought and done,
one army lost and the other thinks it won,
despite all scarlet rivers in the morning.
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