On Life (Versified)

I want to taste the fullness of life,
Bottom to top, all angles covered,
To scrape the roots
Of poverty, and thank God
For a single shabby bed
While I drink an elegant wine
And Tchaikovsky
Paints the auricular landscape
With solemn stubborn joy.
I’d like the fears of a murderer
Juxtaposed with the sunshine
Laziness of bourgeoisie yawns.
I want the victory mixed
With defeat, and defeat
Victorious over victory.
The stars I’d prefer to dance
With the crystal tops
Of mountains, as I sing
Praises to the Creator
Who knows the same as me.
For the singular is a disease,
A foreign language of existence,
And if I say yes, then I say yes
To all: with open arms,
No worries or complaints,
No doubt or self-swallowing misery,
For to breathe is our sole victory,
And despair our only wretched enemy.